


Academic

by rosymamacita



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, New York City, Unresolved Sexual Tension, internet fame, professor!clarke, student!bellamy, taking bets on when they do it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is a semi-famous History Channel host who is teaching her first university class on Women Warriors. The first thing she notices is the manly man sitting in the back, silent. Then he starts arguing with her and never stops. Infuriating. Particularly when she finds out that he is the brother of her old college friend. The most infuriating thing is how much she wants him, but can't have him, because he is her student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quite A Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a prompt I found on bellarkeprompts on tumblr. I totally have no idea how tumblr is supposed to work, so I know I'm doing this wrong, but I don't really care. Here's the prompt:
> 
> "i’ve seen a bunch of Professor Bellamy/Student Clarke fics but i have yet to see one where it’s the other way around
> 
> like what if Clarke is a university professor and Bellamy is a student because Octavia convinced him that now that she’s graduated college he should go get the degree he’s always dreamed about but could never afford"

She noticed him in the back of the class the very first day. His broad shoulders and dark eyes, his shock of tousled black hair that she would love to run her fingers through. Of course she had noticed him. In the crowd of post adolescent students, he was a man.

He was quite a man. 

But she shook it off, because she was a professional, she was an adult, she was an academic. She was a professor, goddammit and she had always wanted to teach and NYU wanted her, despite her youth and lack of teaching experience. She still had to pinch herself, sometimes, that her PhD project, a documentary about historical Women Warriors that she filmed with her friends Monty and Jasper, had gotten picked up for a series by the history channel. Even if it felt somehow that she didn’t deserve to be a professor, sometimes.

All the younguns sat in the front, looking at her with a kind of hero worship she was just not quite comfortable with as she laid out a timeline of the archetype of the woman warrior in art and the media from ancient Greece to modern times. 

When the time came for questions, he did not ask any. He simply sat and wrote in his notebook, long hand, looking up occasionally through his curling dark hair. Clarke would blink and press her lips together when she saw that, and turn to whichever girl asked the next question about the coming curriculum. The class was 75% female and they did seem to be the ones who were speaking up the most, probably due to the fact that this was an interdisciplinary course in women’s studies, media and art history. It was great, actually. They were smart and had interesting questions and really seemed interested in the topic. Yay women’s studies. 

And then the class was over and he stayed where he was, finishing up whatever he was writing in his notebook. The kids waiting to talk to her thinned out, and her eyes went back to the man in the back. He didn’t look over at her. He didn’t come to talk to the semi-famous history channel host. She was pretty sure he’d barely looked at her the entire time she led the class. How do you not look at the person teaching the class you are taking?

The man packed up his bag and turned his back to put on his jacket and her mouth went dry at the flexing of the muscles she could see under his thin t shirt. Then his jacket was on, and he settled his messenger bag over his shoulders and walked out of the classroom without looking back at her. 

“Professor Griffin?” the girl with the long blond hair and wide eyes was asking, “Will we be discussing the women who disguised themselves as men in order to fight during the Civil War?” 

Clarke turned back to her students, giving them her attention. Wondering how in the world she was supposed to concentrate on teaching when she had a gorgeous greek god sitting in her class? Her reaction was totally inappropriate and she was going to have to do something about it.

***

It turned out, that wasn’t going to be a problem, because that first class was an anomaly. Sure, he remained just as gorgeous, but in the very next class, before she’d even gotten through her introduction to that day’s lecture, he raised his hand and started arguing with her, and then he didn’t stop. It took two classes before she finally had it. 

“Mr. Blake! Stop dominating the conversation! You are not the only person with a valid point of view.” As the rest of the class stared with open mouths. 

Blake closed his mouth with a snap and nodded, looking thoughtful. And from then on, he made it a point to make sure that the other students had the chance to speak first and he would even make sure to toss the conversation back to them, and that would have made Clarke respect him, but he still could not help himself from arguing with her position. Whatever she said, he seemed to take the opposite position. As if he were arguing just to piss her off. 

By the second week of class, Mr Blake was not the only one who was arguing the benefits of war vs peace and ideas of feminine power. The entire class was now engaged in passionate debate over every text, artwork, or film she brought in. Some days it felt like a battle, and other days, she was so inspired by the discussion that was far deeper than she expected from a 100 level survey course that she could do nothing but go home and write out her new theories and questions and thoughts.

Near mid term, she met her best friend Raven at their favorite dive bar. 

She threw Blake’s latest paper onto the table and slid into the booth across from Raven. “That asshole has the nerve to call me a racist!”

Raven looked up from her beer. “The same asshole who thinks your class is all about him?” 

“Well…no. I mean yes, that asshole, but he isn’t taking over the class anymore. Actually he got the whole class discussing the role of women in ancient Rome and it was kind of awesome, and he contributed some insightful ideas but now he’s calling me a racist.”

Raven had been glancing through the paper. “Well, he does have a point. Your class is pretty biased towards western civilization.”

“Of course it is, it’s about the influence of Greco-Roman warrior ethos on women in western culture and media. I study western civilization.”

“I’m just saying, you could be a bit more inclusive.”

“Not you, too, Raven?”

“I think as an academic, you could expand your repertoire, I’m not saying you’re a racist, and,” she tapped at the pages of the paper she was flipping through, “I don’t think he is either.”

“Clarke Griffin. Well look at you.”

Clarke looked up from her conversation to see a beautiful woman standing there, with a gorgeous hunk of man coming up behind her, a pitcher of beer and two glasses in his hand. “Octavia!” she said. “Lincoln!” and stood up to hug her.

“When did you get back to New York?” Octavia said, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. “I loved your show. When are you doing another one?”

Octavia let her go and Clarke reached out to grab Lincoln, bringing him in for a hug too. He lifted her up off the floor. “So good to see you,” Clarke said. “I guess you’re still together, then. Do you guys want to join us?”

Octavia nodded and Clarke slid over to let them in. “And forever indebted to you for introducing us. Raven!” she hugged and kissed Raven. “You’re here, too! It’s like a mini college reunion. I swear, Clarke, I just about fell over when I came back from Brazil, opened the door to my apartment, and found my brother watching you on tv. He was so enthralled, he wouldn’t even give me a hug, just waved me off until the commercial break. And I’m like never around anymore because I’m always taking jobs over seas. ”

“Wow, that’s really flattering,” Clarke said.

“Yeah, he’s a real history nerd,” she said, drinking half of the beer Lincoln poured for her in one go, “and then pair history with someone who looks like you?” she laughed. “I told him I could get him a date with you. He almost died. So, what do you think? You want to go out with my huge history nerd brother who has a crush on you?”

Clarke thought it was hysterical. Octavia hadn’t changed a bit. “No, Octavia. I don’t need help getting a date, I’m a semi-famous History Channel host, I’m in demand,” she laughed at herself.

Raven finished off her beer and Lincoln poured her some from his pitcher. “You totally need help getting a date,” she said. “Ever since Lexa, you’ve been shit at meeting people.”

“Yeah, well, once burned… twice burned…aww hell. I’m just totally a burnt piece of toast over here. Maybe I shouldn’t date at all.”

“I think you’d really like him,” Octavia said. “He’s so awesome. He raised me since I was 12 and our mom died. Can you imagine? Some 18 year old kid going to work instead of college, all to raise his little sister by himself? He paid for my college and grad school both and I had to practically force him to apply to college himself when I finally got my master’s. He thought he was too old to be going to school with 18 year olds. But I swear to god, I think your show finally convinced him that he loved history enough to apply to NYU.”

“NYU,” Clarke said, her stomach flipping over.

“Hey,” Raven said, “You’re teaching at NYU.”

“You are? Awesome. Maybe Bell will get to take a class with you.”

“Octavia Blake.” Clarke stared at her.

“Clarke Griffin,” Octavia grinned back at her, raising her glass in a toast.

“Is your brother Bellamy Blake?”

Octavia’s face lit up. “You’ve met him.”

“Oh shit,” Raven laughed, and flipped the paper that they had been discussing into the middle of the table. “Your brother is the asshole.” Raven fell over herself chuckling.

Clarke felt her face heat up and she knew she was blushing. Bellamy Blake, the asshole of her Women Warriors class, had a crush on her. “I can’t date your brother, Octavia.”

“Why not?”

A flash of Bellamy Blake’s broad shoulders went through her mind, with her hands spanning them, reaching under his t shirt to caress his hot skin. She clenched her hands into fists, focusing on how her nails cut into her palms to banish the sudden fantasy. “Because he’s my student.”

Lincoln choked on his beer and Octavia flashed a feral smile. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, this is going to be good.”


	2. A Professional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that she knows who Bellamy Blake is, Clarke finds having him in her class is even more difficult. But she's a professional, dammit. A professional.

Clarke knew how to be objective. She was a professional. She treated all her students the same. Except the moment she saw Bellamy Blake’s tall, curly headed frame walk into her classroom, she felt a burning in her stomach. Bastard. He’d known who she was the whole time and he was playing with her.

She cleared her throat as the class filtered in. She went through her notes for that day’s class. She had changed her plans based on some of the questions he’d brought up last week. Good questions. Dammit. He didn’t even need to be taking his class. He could practically teach it himself. And he’d made it a better class just by being in it. He’d frankly taught her a few things, and not all of them about history. 

She finally looked up, right into his dark brown eyes as he stared back at her. His lips were set into a half smirk, and she wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or himself. He nodded his head very slightly towards her. She couldn’t help but shake her head, very slightly, back at him. Clearly Bellamy Blake had spoken to Octavia.

He’d always known who she was. Of course he had. She was a semi-famous history channel host. It’s why the damn university wanted her as a visiting professor. All her students knew who she was. The only thing was, now she knew who he was too. It shouldn’t make a difference at all. But it did. She was afraid that burning in her stomach was actually situated a fair bit south. She took a sip of coffee, wishing for something stronger and cleared her throat again.

She looked out at the class. “So, what did you guys think about the reading for this week?” she asked, and then braced for it.

“Actually,” Bellamy Blake said, and it didn’t matter how she had prepared for it, a shiver ran down her spine at his deep voice. “I wanted to talk about something from the first article.”

She blinked. Slow. Then turned to him, unable to keep her lips from turning up in a small smile. “Really, Mr. Blake? I’m surprised.”

He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at her, but only paused a second before he started ripping the article to shreds. It was okay. She was ready for him. She’d picked that article just for him, even, and was prepared for his assumptions. It was her duty as a teacher and historian to always make sure her students were aware of their own biases and the lenses through which they viewed the material they were studying. Especially when they thought they were always right. She grinned in anticipation.

***

Bellamy Blake always took off after class. He never stayed to argue with her, or to ask questions about the material or about her History Channel show. Clarke was surprised to find herself disappointed this time. She thought, some how, that something had changed, now she knew, now that they had a connection. But she was stupid. Of course nothing had changed for him. She was his professor and he was her student and he thought she was full of shit and liked to be vocal about it. And she was stupid because, dammit. It had changed for her. So stupid.

So she stayed after class later than she usually did, talking with the hero worship kids, enjoying their passion for the material and glad that she could spark in them the same kind of interest in the material that she had. It was best to focus on the material, she decided. It was about academics, after all. That’s why they were all here. And when the last student was gone, she packed up her books and her notes and the stack of papers to be graded, and sighing, left the classroom.

“You know they’re all in love with you, right?” Bellamy said, leaning up against the wall in the hallway. “Those kids, coming up after class to bask in your presence?” He quirked a small smile at her and she went light headed. 

Fuck. Not professorial. “Mr. Blake, they aren’t in love with me. They’re in love with knowledge.” 

He laughed full heartedly and her own heart did a little skipping. He raised an eyebrow at her. “You should hear the way they talk about you at study sessions.”

She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t care. “The way they talk, Mr Blake? I was informed that you had a crush on me.” She blinked at her own words. NOT professional. Holy shit she was in trouble. The pile of essays in her arms started slipping and although she grabbed at them, they spilled out onto the floor. “Shit,” she said and went to her knees to retrieve them. He followed her, reaching out to pick up the papers that had spread out, packing them into a neat pile between his hands.

“I did have a crush on you, before I took your class,” he said. “You the semi-famous History Channel host. You, Clarke Griffin, are something different entirely.”

She felt her face heat up. She knew he hated her, what with the way he couldn’t look at her unless he was arguing with her. It was better that way. She decided to latch onto something else instead. “Your sister told you about my “semi-famous” thing.” It was the way she mocked her own success, she knew it. It was just hard to take sometimes and easier to pretend it didn’t matter. “Your sister has a big mouth.”

“Well that we already knew,” he said. “Look,” he said, his voice serious again. She stood with half the papers back in her arms. He stood and handed her the pile he’d collected. “I just wanted to… I don’t know, introduce myself.”

“I know your name, Mr Blake.”

He grimaced and shook his head. “You know what I mean. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Octavia before. You know, she used to talk about you all the time, back when she was in college.”

“She used to talk about you, too. I just, I guess I forgot your name, or maybe she called you ‘my brother’ all the time. I think she called you ‘Bell.’” He looked up at her when she called him ‘Bell,’ his eyes wide. “Maybe I’m just stupid that I didn’t make the connection. It’s nothing, really. There’s no reason why you would have to tell me who you are. I get it.” She actually couldn’t look at him. She looked instead at his arms the way they were crossed in front of his chest. She had the urge to run her fingers down the veins in his forearms. Damn. She looked down at her feet.

“I just really wanted to take your class,” he said. “I thought it sounded fascinating. And I didn’t want it to be weird. This is my first term in college. I didn’t really know what to expect.”

“Well, you’re doing really well, then. Frankly, you don’t even need to take my class. You already seem to know it all already.”

He laughed. “I don’t know it all. But I did kind of get into the subject and do a lot of reading before signing up for your class.” He shrugged, as if he were embarrassed. “I didn’t want to sound ignorant.”

“Mr Blake, you’re not supposed to be an expert on a subject when you take a class. You take a class to learn about the topic. You’re not supposed to go all autodidact on the syllabus and then walk in and destroy the professor.”

He blinked at her. His lashes were long and thick and black. “You’re a great teacher, Clarke,” he said, his voice just slightly husky. “This is a great class. It’s kind of exactly what I was hoping for when I decided to finally go to college. I mean, I can learn about a subject on my own, but I can’t sit with people who care just as much as I do and actually talk about it. Most of the people I know call me a nerd and fall asleep when I try to get them to watch documentaries. So that I could be a part of this class, means a lot to me, even if I feel weird being so much older than all the other students.”

“You are… this is…” Clarke stuttered, “Bellamy, you made my class better, these conversations we’ve been having? This has been because of you, because of your contributions. You belong here.” 

He looked stunned at her words, then a smile broke across his face, like the sun breaking across the horizon. “I could have sworn you thought I was an asshole.”

She let out a shaky breath, a laugh maybe. “No. I still think you are an asshole,” but she couldn’t help the smile. She ducked her head and looked up at him through her lashes and saw him, watching her lips. His own were full and slightly parted. She couldn’t help it when her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. 

Shit. 

She shook her head to clear it. “Uhm. I’ve got to go,” she said. “I have something to do.” And she flat out fled.


	3. This Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When fantasy and reality collide, the results are not always what you would expect.

“Raven,” she said. “This is horrible. What am I going to do?”

Raven looked at her and threw a dress at her. “Wear this.”

“I can’t wear this,” she held the thing up. “It’s got no back. I can’t wear a bra with this and my boobs will be hanging out all over the place. And it’s practically see through. I’ll be arrested for indecency and NYU will fire me and pictures of my naked tits will be all over the semi-famous History Channel internet. It will be a scandal. I will be shamed and my life will end.”

“That’s why we bought the bra with all the cage straps, Clarke.” Raven threw the newly purchased undergarment at her. “It’s supposed to show under the dress.”

“Oh.” Clarke said, turning around to pull off her tee and normal bra. She struggled to get the bra on. “I was thinking that as long as my life was going to be ruined by my boobs, I could at least get something out of it and make out with my unfairly gorgeous and brilliant student, since that’s what I really want to do and that’s what would really get me fired. Oh my god. I’m such a perv.”

“You’re not a perv.” Raven laughed, coming over to fix Clarke’s bra where she’d put her arm through the wrong strap. “Isn’t he older than you? He raised Octavia after their mom died, and you’re only a year older than her, right? So what’s so pervy? It’s not like he’s a freshman just out of high school.”

“Ugh, I wish he was some 18 year old. I wouldn’t be drooling over him if he were. Why the hell is there some manly man in my women’s studies course? Dammit. I was prepared for some cute girls, even boys, but I thought they would all be young and unformed. I was not prepared for him.”

“It’s interdisciplinary. Isn’t he a history major? And isn’t it a good thing if grown men want to take women’s studies courses? Doesn’t that mean he’s a feminist? We like it when men are feminists.”

“No! That’s worse. My manly man is a feminist, fascinated by women’s power through western culture. And history. And he raised my friend Octavia while other dudes were getting drunk and laid.” She finally got the bra on straight and flopped onto Raven’s bed. “No, seriously, Raven. How am I going to make it through the rest of the term as his teacher when I’m fantasizing about licking his chest? Why couldn’t he stay the asshole and just let me be angry about his arguing with me all the time.”

“Yeah, I kind of think that’s all part of the problem, isn’t it? You like that he challenges you. I was going to tell you to just do him, even before Octavia showed up and outed him for being her awesome older brother.”

“Raven! What am I going to do?” she moaned and threw the slinky black backless dress over her face.

Raven rolled her eyes at Clarke’s dramatics. “You’re going to put on that damn dress and you’re going to come with me to the ass-end of Queens to this damn bar that I want to go to.”

“Aren’t there bars closer to us? Why do we have to go all the way out to Flushing?”

“I told you, the hipster plague has taken over, and we must flee.” Raven was already in her fancy going out clothes, and despite her dress being red and tight, she still looked like she could kick anyone’s ass she wanted to. Clarke was sure she had a switch blade on her person somewhere. She was from The Bronx, and she didn’t mess around. “Besides, we need to try new things sometimes. Especially you with your pervy fixation on your innocent and helpless students. You are such a predator, Professor Griffin.” Clarke groaned. “Put the dress on, and lets head out. We’ll go on our adventure and it will be nowhere near the university or the faculty codes. Flushing is practically not even part of this planet. It’ll be nice to put all these rules and regulations and social mores behind us, huh? Take a night off of being a professor and just have fun.”

Clarke pulled the dress over her head. “Seriously, Raven? It’s like this dress is just an excuse for me to flash my underwear. I have a reputation as a serious academic to uphold.”

“Yeah, and as a semi-famous History Channel host. Maybe if the internet does get wind of your hot bod, you can get more people watching your show. I bet you they’d give you another season if you walked around the Roman ruins dressed like that.”

“I am not going to use my body to get people to want to learn about women warriors.”

“Well that’s a missed opportunity.” Raven said, picking up Clarke’s clutch and tossing it to her. “But you can at least use that body of yours to mack on a hot guy and forget about your angst over dating a student.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to date him. I said I wanted to lick him all over.”

Raven laughed at Clarke, rightly so. “Oh you so want to date him. And you want to watch documentaries with him and wake up and go to brunch together and argue about history and probably commingle your damn libraries.”

Clarke blushed. “Raven!”

Raven just kept laughing and opened the door so they could get the hell out of there.

****

Clarke had to admit, Moonshine was a cool bar. It was both down to earth and fun, with tables and booths in the front room, and a dance club in the back. If it were downtown or in Williamsburg instead of an hour drive away, it would be swarming with hipsters. As it was, it was pleasantly full but not overly crowded or overly loud. Raven and Clarke got a couple of drinks at the bar and headed back, at Raven’s insistence, into the dance club. 

They raised their glasses high as they pushed through the press of dancing bodies, Clarke really wanting to protect hers, because it was some sort of boutique cocktail and it was delicious. If it spilled, she would be really sad. Raven didn’t seem to be as careful as she was, grabbing her free hand and pulling her through the crowd, wiggling her hips and shimmying her shoulders as she went, as if dancing were more important than the whatever the hell it was in her hand with elderflower liqueur it. What even was elderflower liqueur? She wanted some.

“Welcome Bitches!” And then in the dancing crowd, there was Octavia standing in front of them, hugging Raven and coming in for one from Clarke, too.

“Octavia?” Clarke said as the girl grabbed her. She was a sight to see, smoky eye makeup and intricate braids making her look fierce and a spangled dress that had her shining in the low light of the dance floor. “What are you doing here?” She looked back and forth between her two friends. 

“Who do you think told me about this place? It’s like some sort of hidden gem in the trackless wilderness. I had to get in with the natives to find out about it.”

“Come!” Octavia said, pulling Clarke by her hand. “I have a table. Put your drink down so we can get our dance on.”

“I kind of want to drink my drink, Octavia,” she said, “I’ve had a difficult week and I could really use some alcohol—“

They reached the table and Clarke caught sight of who was sitting there at the same time he caught sight of her. Bellamy stood, his eyes sweeping over her from her head down to her feet and up again. “Clarke,” he said, his lips half open, his eyes heavy lidded.

He himself was wearing dark jeans and a navy shirt, half unbuttoned, emphasizing his muscles and broad shoulders. Her mouth went dry. “What— what are you doing here?” she gasped.

“This is my bar.” He looked as amazed at her presence as she was at his. She tossed her elderflower drink down in one swallow. She closed her eyes, feeling his presence as if there were no distance between them. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, his eyebrows drawn in concern. Concerned Bellamy Blake. Goddammit. She looked over at Raven and Octavia, both looking back and forth between her and Bellamy, with wide eyes. They’d planned this, the busy bodies. 

Clarke sneered at Raven and took her drink from her. She tossed it back in one gulp also. “I’m going to kill you.” She handed both empty glasses to Raven who promptly disappeared with Octavia in the dancing throng.

“Did you just…” Bellamy Blake said, gesturing at her drinks.

“Damn right I did. I needed some alcoholic assistance to deal with this situation.”

It was like a switch turned on in him. He took a step towards her and cocked his head. The antagonistic debater was gone, his eyes glinted. “And what situation is that?”

Her eyes locked on his. It was better than looking at any other part of him, his lips, his body, his hands, god, even his hands were sexy. “I can’t—“ she said, shaking her head, unable to finish. She took a step towards him and felt her body yearn towards him. “I can’t.”

He let out a gust of air. “And how do you think I feel, with you coming to my place dressed like that?” he gestured at her dress, her too high shoes. And she knew the makeup was too much, the dark eyeliner and glossy pink lips. She knew that it made her look like she was out for sex. That’s what Raven was trying to get her to look for. And then she brought her to Bellamy’s bar. Right to Bellamy himself.

“I’m going to kill Raven.”

“Don’t think Octavia is off scot free, either. They set us up.”

“They sure did.” She was really kind of sorry she’d downed those drinks so quickly. Not only was she getting light headed with alcohol, but she also had nothing to distract her from his beautiful face, his very presence. 

He took a step closer to her and she didn’t mind. She blinked up at him as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I looked up the faculty handbook,” he said. “I know you can’t date a student, but am I wrong to think that there is something there, between us?”

“You’re not wrong,” she breathed.

He smiled and his eyes softened. “I really like you, Clarke.”

“Just like all those hero worship kids?” she asked, but her voice was soft too, and she found herself leaning closer, one hand ghosting up his arm.

He shook his head. “No. I know when I really like someone, and Clarke…?”

She tilted her head up to him, “Yes?” she said, feeling dizzy with booze and his nearness and how much she really liked him, too.

“I’m not confused about how I feel for you.” His voice was deep, husky. Her hand slid up his arm and to his neck. She played with the curls at his nape. 

“You barely even know me, Bellamy.”

His lips curved into a smile. “What I know, I like. And I want to get to know you better.” He sighed deeply, his hand running down her arm by her side, and tangling with her fingers. “Maybe I’ll quit so I can see you.”

Clarke gasped and dropped her hand from his neck, stepping back. “No! No. You can’t do that. You need to be in school.”

He laughed. “I was joking. I’ve already paid my tuition. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not funny.” Clarke said, stepping back farther. “Ugh.” She cast her eyes about the dance floor, looking for anything to distract her. “I can’t do this. You’re a freshman, and I’m a professor.”

“I’m not a kid, Clarke.”

She laughed but it was bitter. “Oh believe me, I know that. If you weren’t my student I would have not one problem with the thoughts going through my head right now.”

He raised one eyebrow.

“But I am, so I do.”

Bellamy sighed heavily. “I wouldn’t ever want to compromise your career or your integrity, no matter what I want to do to your body.”

“Bellamy!” she cried. She knew her face was hot with a blush.

“Clarke. I know what you’re not allowed to do and I know why. But I also know that you are a visiting professor. You’re only at NYU for one year before you go back to do more episodes for your show. And I also know that there’s nothing in the faculty handbook about professors being friends with their students. I meant what I said, Clarke. I want to get to know you better. It doesn’t have to be about sex.”

Clarke pouted, because really, she wanted it to be about sex. But, also, she wasn’t a hormone driven teenager. She knew how to put it on the back burner. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been able to before with him, why he’d featured so strongly in her fantasies, maybe because she had been refusing to admit it. But she felt lighter, now, relieved, as if acknowledging their attraction took away some of its power. 

She laughed. “Friends. I can do friends.”

“Good,” he smiled reassuringly, but it wasn’t the dazzling smile of before, sure to melt her panties. It was the ‘just friends’ smile. Comforting. “Then lets go to the front and I’ll get you another drink and introduce you to my partner. We can hang out. As friends.”

“Yeah,” she said, shaking off the feelings of lust because she could do this. She could be friends with this man, no matter how gorgeous he was. She was friends with Octavia’s boyfriend Lincoln, and he was gorgeous and she never felt the need to jump him. She’d just put Bellamy into the friends box, not the sexy unattainable man box. She could do it. “Yeah.”

Bellamy nodded at her and led her through the dancers with a hand on the small of her back. Before they stepped into the quieter room, he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “But when your contract is up with NYU at the end of the year, I’m going to kiss you.”

She turned back to him and stopped him with a hand to his (very firm) chest. “That’s a deal,” she said with a grin, and then swept into the other room with Bellamy Blake following behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more slutty Barbie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day. 
> 
> this is kind of a post script on the last chapter. It was separate, but not a part of what happens next, so I thought I'd just throw it in there as it's own chapter.

Clarke was sitting in a booth in the quieter front room, laughing with Bellamy and his partner Miller and friends Monroe and Sterling, when Raven came up to her, a dark look on her face.

“What is this?” Raven said accusingly.

“Oh, Raven! Meet Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, looking up at Raven. “Good to meet you. I hope you’re having a good time. Octavia is a good host, but be careful, she has some dangerous ideas and can get you into trouble.”

Raven rolled her eyes.

“Believe me,” Clarke said. “Raven can hold her own. However, there might be a problem when she gets her own dangerous ideas and decides to blow everything up.” Clarke felt like she was perhaps showing too many teeth as she grinned at her friend.

“Can I speak with you?” Raven said, taking her arm.

“Excuse me,” Clarke said to Bellamy and his friends. Bellamy smirked into his drink as he watched her.

Raven held onto Clarke’s arm and dragged her outside to the sidewalk. It was a clear night, and for some reason it smelled like ocean. “What the hell was going on over there with you two?” Raven turned on her. “I brought you over here so you could jump his bones and get him out of your system.”

“I can’t DO that Raven. He’s my student and I have a code of conduct. I’m not going to blow up my career just because you think I should get laid.”

“You don’t need to work as a professor, Clarke. You have your show. You’re famous.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Semi famous. And it’s not real. It could end at any minute and really, what do I do after that? It’s not like there are tons of opportunities for history documentary hosts out there. Getting that teaching experience is necessary for my future. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Bellamy isn’t going to report you for sexual harassment if you do him, Clarke. And he’s not a kid. He can take care of himself. He wouldn’t hurt your reputation.”

“He’s not the only one who could report me. Any one of my students could feel I was favoring him and get jealous. Or my colleagues. Or hell, someone who knows me from my show and has some sort of weird fixation on me. This plan to throw us together until we combust was a bad plan. You were supposed to help me get over him, not get under him.”

“Oh ha ha. Very funny. It’s just sex, Clarke. Not the end of the world. Two grown ups can have sex without ending life as we know it.”

“Except I signed a contract, and that contract says I can’t sleep with my students. And also, there will be no more of this.” She gestured vaguely at herself.

“What?”

“I am not going to be your slutty Barbie anymore. You took advantage of my moment of weakness and had me go out in my underwear.”

“You look hot.”

“Damn right I look hot. But I don’t need all this nonsense to look hot.” Clarke spun on her heel and went back to the table. Octavia was there with a scowl on her face, clearly having just gotten an earful from her brother, and when Clarke sat down, she got up. 

Clarke was enjoying talking to Bellamy outside of the class. She really was. And she was managing her attraction to him just fine. Octavia gave her a side eye and slunk over to where Raven was standing. They whispered to each other.

“They’re planning something,” Bellamy said to her.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at the women. Raven narrowed hers back at Clarke, and then grabbed Octavia and disappeared into the other room. 

“Yeah. They’re definitely planning something.”

“I hope they know they aren’t going to beat us.”

“They can bring it.” Clarke said. “We’ve got this handled.” Bellamy smirked and nodded at her, raising his glass. She clinked glasses with him.

“They don’t stand a chance,” he said, his eyes twinkling, and took a drink.

She looked at him over the rim of her glass. God she liked him.


	5. Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone ships Bellarke

Clarke was really proud of herself.

For some reason, getting it all out in the open made it possible for her to stop fantasizing about Bellamy while she was teaching. The semester continued on, just as intellectually stimulating as it had been before, if not more so.

Bellamy never stopped challenging her on the material and she enjoyed throwing in information that she knew he would not be able to help but get enraged over. She was really beginning to like how passionate he got about their discussions. His presentations were fantastic and the group work he was in never failed to enlighten the other students on whatever their subject was.

He called her professor and she called him Mr Blake, and nothing changed. The class was great. He was learning. The other students were learning. She was proud of her class.

Friday, she met Raven at their bar. She was sitting next to Octavia at the big table in the back with a mixed group of friends. Her friends and crew, Monty and Jasper, but also Octavia’s boyfriend Lincoln and Bellamy’s best friend, Miller. That was something that changed. Raven and Octavia seemed to be getting more subtle. Rather than trying to set Clarke and Bellamy up to have an affair, they instead had made it their goal to integrate their friend groups. She wasn’t quite sure if it was some kind of ambush or just getting back in touch with old friends, but with the way Raven and Octavia seemed to be avoiding her, it was probably the first.

She sat down at the table, her face carefully neutral, and was prepared when Bellamy walked in the door to see her sitting in the group of his friends. Their eyes met and she saw the surprise on his face, then the slow smile. He nodded to her. She returned the greeting and went back her conversation with Lincoln. Her old friend had only gotten more interesting after college, becoming a photo journalist and traveling the world with Octavia, a translator. It was fun getting to know him again, and if her eyes kept sneaking over to Bellamy where he was drinking a pint with Monty and Jasper, then it was just because she wanted to see how he was getting along with her crew.

When Bellamy caught her looking and smiled at her, the swooping of her stomach called her on her self deception. She definitely still liked him. She was behaving, they were behaving, but she wanted to touch him. His eyes fell to her lips and she realized her tongue had slipped out to moisten them. She huffed a laugh and shook her head, trying to clear it. His smile turned into a smirk and he went back to his conversation with Monty. That was when Clarke decided to switch over from vodka cranberry to cranberry and seltzer. She knew better than to tempt herself with lowered inhibitions and fantasies that were too close to achievable.

It was much later that night when Jasper sidled up to her with his phone, slurring. “Clarkie!” he said. She slid the plate of nachos with everything over to him, gently suggesting that he eat something to soak up the booze in his system. “Awesome,” he said as he fell on them, inhaling practically the whole plate in a bout five seconds. “But not as awesome as this,” he slid his phone across for her to see.

“What’s this?” she said picking it up and looking at the screen. 

“Fan fiction. You’re a star.”

“What?”

“Yeah. My favorite is the one with you and Xena the Warrior Princess in some sort of time travel accident. You’re exploring the ruins of the Coliseum and you, like, conjure her into being and she almost kicks your ass for being a witch and then you win her over and make passionate love in modern Rome. Super hot.”

“What?” she repeated, scanning the text on the screen and feeling the beginning of a blush rise to her cheeks.

“Oh, yeah. Apparently being a sexy semi-famous history channel star means people are writing stories about you hooking up with women warriors throughout the ages.”

“Me? That is… what?”

“Fan. Fiction.” He said, leaning over her shoulder to tap the screen a few times. “But interestingly, not all the stories are about women warriors. Take a look at this ship.”

“What’s a ship?”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “You are seriously screwing up my reveal.” He grabbed the phone back and found what he was looking for. “OTP, one true pairing. Fan favorite relationship that you want to get together, why don’t you kiss already. Ship. Guh. Just look at these.” He shoved the phone in her face, too close for her to actually focus on the writing.

She sucked her teeth, annoyed, and grabbed the phone from him, reading. 

Clarke gasped and looked up Jasper who wiggled his eyebrows at her, grinning. “A little teacher/student action, huh?”

She dragged him closer and whispered harshly. “What the fuck, Jasper. This is about me and Bellamy!” 

“Yup. Talk about super hot.”

“What the fuck, Jasper!” She scrolled through. “This is fucking porn! Who the fuck wrote this? Why the fuck…”

“They call it smut, Professor.” He took the phone back and looked at it. “This one is by VillageBiBabe.”

“Did you do this, Jasper? Is this some sort of sick attempt to get us together?”

He snorted.”No. I’m much more an Avengers fan. I just stumbled across something on Tumblr when I was doing some Women Warriors searching, and voila. Look what I found. It’s hysterical.”

“It’s horrifying! Oh my god. Who is writing about me and a student? A real student. This isn’t fantasy, this is my life.”

“My guess is it’s another one of your students. Actually, more than one of your students. There’s VillageBiBabe, XenaLover, LuvvandXXOO, and a few more all writing in the Bellarke ship. That’s what they call it. Bellarke. I like it. It’s cute. Bellamy and Clarke.”

“They gave us a portmanteau?” 

“Ha ha. That’s fancy. You’re like Bennifer. It’s awesome. I wonder what it would be with Xena? Clarkna? Xerke? Oh that’s good. Not as good as Bellarke, though.”

“Jasper, so help me, if you start writing smutty fan fiction about me and Bellamy I will kill you dead.”

“You’d never know it was me, Clarkie. I would just be another anonymous shipper. We’re all fangirls on line.” He smiled so that all of his teeth showed and his eyes gleamed bright, as if he was having bad ideas. “It’s one of the risks of being a media figure, especially in the world of geek. You’ve totally got fangirls, and they are in your class.”

“Bellamy says they are all in love with me. It’s just hero worship.” She compressed her lips. This was all very uncomfortable.

“Hero worship. Fangirling. Crushing. Whatever. I would bet that they picked up on some of the sexual tension between you and Mr Blake in your class and started shipping the two of you. I mean, it’s so obvious. We’re all taking bets on how much longer the two of you can hold out before you do it.”

“Stop.”

“I’m just keeping you informed on the state of your media presence, Clarkie. I think we should capitalize on this. You should get yourself a tumblr blog and stop ignoring your twitter and maybe some instagram… especially when we go back to filming. Yeah, that’s totally great. We should get some behind the scenes action going on. Maybe a youtube channel…” Jasper faded off and she could see the wheels turning in his head. 

“Seriously, Jasper. Stop. I’m a serious academic. I am a professor and NYU with a PhD. I’m not going to do all this stuff.”

“I’m thinking of you, Clarke. I’m thinking of all of us. This is good for our careers. You are the face of our product, and you’re young and gorgeous and interesting and you have things to say. We’re going to make you into an empire.” He stopped when he saw her glaring. “Aww, come on, Clarke. No angry face. Just think of how you can engage the younger generation with history and feminism and art and culture. Teach them about things of substance. Empower them. Speak their language.”

“Jasper, I’m a busy professional. I don’t have time to do all this stuff.” She wanted to tell him no, but she was beginning to think he was probably right about upping her on line presence. Maybe instead of pretending her semi famous stardom was not real, she should actually wield the power and do some good with it. If she could get kids interested in history and feminism, that would be pretty wonderful.

“I can set it all up for you, and handle the youtube channel. Monty has a lot of footage from the work we’ve already done. And I’ll talk to the History Channel people about their multimedia presence. I think we can do this, Clarke.”

“I thought you were drunk and messing with me, Jasper, not plotting to take over the internet world.” 

“Yes. I was doing all of that.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,”Clarke said, sighing, almost hoping that he would forget about it, but not really having much hope of that.

“You got it,” he said and stood up, grabbing the demolished plate of nachos as he went, picking at the leavings. 

“Wait! Jasper!”

“Yes, boss?” he turned back to her.

“Don’t tell Bellamy about the…”

Jasper grinned and nodded dramatically, putting his finger to his lips and then mimed turning the key and and throwing it away. 

She watched him head to the bar to get another beer, even though he probably shouldn’t be drinking any more. Clarke took out her phone and held it under the table, going to the fan fiction site. She couldn’t lie. Jasper had been right. The little bit that she had already read had been hot, and she was dying to see what else was there. 

There were twenty five stories under the “Bellarke” heading. One of them had been published with a timestamp during her last class. Had someone been writing smut during her class? She took a quick look at it.

It was 1500 words of pure pornography, set in her classroom, emptied of other students, with just Bellamy and her, spread out on the desk—

Clarke swallowed and turned her phone off. That was not something she could look at here at the bar, surrounded by friends. She looked up and saw Bellamy across the room, talking to Monty and Miller. He didn’t even see her, didn’t notice her looking at him, and yet her whole body flushed with heat, and her mind went to her classroom, empty of students, just her, and him. Oh shit. The whole universe was conspiring against her. Freaking internet. Freaking friends. Freaking greek god standing across the room from her. 

“Nope,” she said, to herself, since she was the only one still at the table, the rest engaged at the bar and games and Raven looked like she was flirting over there. Now would be a good time to make an exit, head home to bed. She thought about all those smutty stories. She was almost afraid to read them. Except she kind of really wanted to read them, alone. She put on her jacket and picked up her bag and turned around to take off, running straight into Bellamy.

She almost fell over, but he caught her and held her while she regained her balance and her nerve endings fired up with lust, her hands on his biceps. She gasped and stepped back. 

“Were you leaving?” he asked, wearing his friendly smile. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m getting pretty tired. I was thinking I’d better get to bed.” She flushed like a preadolescent, thinking of her bed and Bellamy in close proximity. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long day for me too. I was kind of hoping we could hang out more. We didn’t really get to talk much… but I wasn’t really sure, well, what the parameters were.”

Clarke had to laugh at herself. The fantasies got out of control, thanks to the stupid fan fiction, but when she talked to him, she liked him enough to focus on what he was saying instead of the dirty things that were in her head. “You’re right. It’s a little confusing…”

“And a little frustrating,” he said, looking away from her.

“We’re okay, just hanging out. I think. We can sit at the same table and talk. I’d like to, actually, instead of avoiding you.”

“So you were avoiding me. I thought so.”

“Kind of, casually, not like as a mission.” She hung her head. “Sorry. I think we’re good in class…” An image of herself spread on a desk with him over her flashed through her mind. She cleared her throat. “I— uh— mean, I think we’ve figured out parameters in class, but social situations are a little less clear.”

He nodded and grunted in agreement. “Maybe we keep our interactions in a group setting.”

“We’re not in a group now.”

He smirked. “And it’s not a good idea,” he said, and then fixed her with his dark eyes, falling silent. He let out a breath, and looked away from her. “But I get the feeling that these kind of situations are going to happen more often.” He nodded over at the other side of the bar, where all their friends were watching them, closely.

Clarke rolled her eyes and made a face at them. They didn’t even pretend to not be gawking. “They’re betting on when we do it.”

Bellamy laughed. “We should find out what the bets are and fuck with them.” She laughed with him. It felt good. She really did like him. 

“I think next time we meet up in one of these group things, we just, you know. Hang. Like grown ups. Talk. Make jokes. Share stories?” Stories, the thought popped into her head, like the fan fiction stories burning a hole in her head right now. Dammit. Focus.

Luckily, Bellamy didn’t catch her momentary lapse.

“…Hanging out in groups is probably our best bet, at least for a few weeks until your class ends.”

“Even if you’re not my student, I’m still a professor and you’re still a freshman.”

He grinned at her and the twinkle in his eye was decidedly NOT a friendly twinkle. “I gave it a shot,” he said then rubbed at his face with his hands. “Just…” he started and paused, the flirt faded away, “I just need to make sure I’m not the only one here, I’m not just some annoying hero-worshipping student to you.”

She couldn’t look at him. “No. And if I’m avoiding being alone with you it’s because I doubt my self control.”

“Huh,” he said. And then was silent. He was silent for a while before she finally looked up at him, actually concerned. He was staring off over her head, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“What is it?”

“Am I—am I just some vulnerable, nubile undergrad to you?”

A joyous laugh bubbled up inside of her and she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Nubile?”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Uh huh. You nubile little nymph.” She laughed again. He cracked a grin, too, ducking his head to chuckle.

“Okay. Fine. I get it.”

“But you know, you’re right to worry.”

He cocked his eyebrow at her.

“Because that’s one of the reasons I can’t date you. Or sleep with you. Because me being your professor makes you vulnerable.”

“I’m not vulnerable, Clarke. I’ve been around the block quite a few times. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Maybe, but I’m not really willing to play with you like that. It is your first semester in college and it’s a new world and I’m an authority, no matter how often you challenge that authority. And especially, maybe because I kind of like it when you challenge my authority. Ugh. It’s kind of hard to handle all this.”

“These complications were not in the brochure. I’m not interested in the kids I go to school with, and I’m not allowed to be with the sexy age appropriate professor.”

“At least I will only be a professor until May.” Clarke grabbed onto the strap of her bag and took another step back. “I’m going to say this from over here, because I am really,” her voice lowered, “really attracted to you.” She saw him lean forward as if he were going to take a step towards her, but instead, he leaned back against the wall and just looked at her. “I like you. And I like you more every time I talk to you, in class or out of class. I want to get to know you better, it’s just a little…”

“Overwhelming,” he said, his eyes dark again. 

“It’s a lot overwhelming.”

“So only in groups, then,” he said with a small, sad smile.

“For a while.” She settled her bag on her shoulder again. “Are we crazy? This just seems like so much trouble. I mean, I’m sure you could find another woman at the drop of a hat.”

“I don’t want another woman, Clarke. You’re worth it. I’m willing to wait, as long as we’re both on the same page.”

“Maybe by the time my contract is up we’ll find out this thing between us isn’t anything at all.”

“Maybe,” he said, but his dark eyes said he didn’t think so. “I guess we’ll find out in May.” His lips quirked up into a smirk. “Can I walk you home?” he said huskily.

Clarke laughed. “Not a chance, hot shot. I’ll just take off,” she said, dipping her head to look at her feet rather than kiss him on the cheek like she wanted to. She turned to the bar and all their friends lined up watching them say goodbye and flipped them off with both hands. Bellamy chuckled next to her as she slipped out the door.

“Bye, Clarke,” he said, smiling.

“See ya later,” Clarke said, and was glad for the cool Fall air against her hot cheeks, as the door closed behind her.


	6. Viral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their intellectual relationship deepens.
> 
> Their internet relationship goes viral.

They were right to assume that neither Octavia nor Raven would stop trying to throw them together, and it didn’t take long until Jasper was engaged in project Bellarke either. The next friday, there was another get together, this time a party at Miller’s house, and seeing as Monty was desperately crushing on him, Clarke and all their friends were required to attend Bellamy’s best friend’s party. 

But it was okay, because they had ground rules now. She dressed in relatively normal clothes, jeans and a cute top in silky blue, none of that lady killer, nearly naked stuff. And they were both prepared. She truly enjoyed the evening, sitting on the low couches in Miller’s living room with half a dozen people, laughing and getting into political discussions. Somehow along the way, the conversation turned back to warrior women, as often happened when Clarke was in a group. 

Bellamy leaned across the coffee table so that his hand was inches from her knee. “You know,” he asked, the ice clinking in his drink, “What even IS a warrior? I mean, we use that word so often, but in this world, in this era of general peace, why do we never talk about the other ways of fighting for justice or peace or security or equality.”

Clarke was wise to the twinkle in his eye, and did not lean forward to be closer to him. Rather she leaned back on the couch and tilted her head back, putting more distance between them. “What did you have in mind,” she asked, and Miller’s whiskey made her voice deeper than she had intended. She resisted clearing her throat. She didn’t want Bellamy to focus on her husky tone.

He grinned wolfishly up at her and Clarke swallowed. “Well,” he said, “take for instance the situation of a single mother, running away from an abusive situation and starting over with her kids, to keep them safe, on her own, without support. Do you know the kind of courage that takes?”

Clarke knew of how Bellamy had grown up. Octavia had told her back when they were in school together. She knew how their mom had struggled to keep them together, despite everything she had stacked against her. Clarke found herself leaning forward, putting her glass down on the coffee table with a clink. She knew that Bellamy had been the only one standing behind his mother, helping her survive, taking care of Octavia, while she took whatever job she could to support them. And in the end, it didn’t matter, because she was diagnosed with breast cancer and died only months later. “Yes. That is a warrior,” Clarke said, her voice breathy. Bellamy locked eyes with her, and they were soft, vulnerable, and she gazed into them a bit too long.

He blinked, and then sat back. “Or someone like Harriet Tubman. The woman was my first hero. Did you know that not only did she lead hundreds of slaves to freedom, but she also was a spy during the Civil War?”

“I did know that. And I agree. There are many ways to be a warrior and it is not always about dealing death. Sometimes it is about honoring life.”

He smiled at her, and nodded. And she smiled at him. And they stayed that way until Miller piped up. “You know who I always liked?” he said.

“Who?” Clarke looked at him without turning her body away from Bellamy.

“Rosa Parks. That took balls.”

It turned out that Bellamy had a bit of an obsession with the Civil Rights movement, and the discussion slid easily into non-violent methods of resistance, community action, and revolution. The conversation went on for hours it seemed until Clarke looked up and noticed that it was just the two of them left. The party had thinned out, and those who were left were over in the kitchen or dining room.

She stopped talking.

Bellamy sat back. He had been leaning towards her and she had been leaning towards him. Her cheeks were hot and it was less about his nearness and more about the heat that fired their discussion. But all of a sudden, she was very aware of his presence.

“We’re alone,” he said. 

She nodded. 

“When did that happen?” 

She shrugged. “I—I should go,” she said. It threw her for a loop, how easily they had talked, forgetting about everything else, just getting wrapped up in discussion. This was even worse than fantasizing about licking him. It was so much worse. It wasn’t a fantasy at all. She wanted to keep talking to him. Raven had been right. She wanted to argue with him and wake up together and go to brunch and commingle damn libraries. She hadn’t even imagined her hands running over his naked shoulders while they had been talking. Not even one flashback to all those dirty stories someone had imagined for them. My god. It wasn’t just lust.

She stood hastily, and so did he and it put them in sudden contact, chest to chest. Her lips parted as she felt his firm muscles against her breasts, his warm breath against her cheek.

He stepped back, putting his chair between them, raking a hand through his hair. God she wanted to be the one to do that to him. 

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her, his eyes suddenly far darker than they had been before, a heat pooling in her center.

Well, it wasn’t just lust anymore but she was certainly feeling lust right now. “I’m going to go find Raven.”

Raven was in the kitchen and when Clarke came to get her, she thrust a victorious fist in the air. “Yes!” then turned to Lincoln. “Do I know my girl, or what?”

He simply rolled his eyes and handed her a twenty. “All of this is nonsense,” he said and Octavia curled up under his arm, poking his side and laughing at him.

“It’s awesome,” Octavia said. “I haven’t had this much fun with Bellamy in forever.”

“What is going on here?”

Octavia smiled. “Nothing, sis.”

Clarke looked back and forth between the grinning Raven and Octavia, and Lincoln, sadly shaking his head. 

“Nonsense,” he said.

“You ready to go, Raven?”

“Hell, yes. Tonight I win. Onto the next bet.”

It was dark outside. And quiet, on the ass end of Queens. Much stiller than the heart of the city. Clarked found she liked it, she needed it. Everything was so complicated lately, she liked that she could see the sky above the buildings here, and smell the faint tang of the sea on the air. She turned to Raven as their cab pulled up to the curb. “You’ve got to stop betting on me and Bellamy.” 

“Okay,” Raven said, grinning.

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Nope.”

They got into the car and headed back to Manhattan.

***

The emails started the next day. 

When Clarke wrote him back that this was her academic email, a subtle warning about flirting on her .edu account, he didn’t even acknowledge it, he just went straight into the conversation they had ended the night before, as if he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. He wrote about non physical warriors and movements amongst oppressed peoples to fight their oppression.

As his professor, this was exactly the kind of thing she was supposed to be talking to students about, even if it wasn’t technically about her curriculum. He was engaged in his own research and passion and she wanted to encourage it. It was actually far beyond the level of a typical freshman. He’d already studied so much independently sometimes she wondered if he should even be considered a first year student. 

The conversations with Bellamy via email were wholly full of intellectual passion and and curiosity. Every question of hers brought him back to the table with new ideas and perspectives, which had her taking stock of the ideas she herself had always assumed.

In a way, this correspondence was far easier to deal with than seeing him out with her friends, or sitting with Octavia and Raven, with their unsubtle prying into her feelings for him and the state of their relationship, when she had to confront that the connection they had was not just about the intellectual. Their academic connection was the only connection she was allowed to have with Bellamy. She did not want to address her feelings for him and she did not want to face her desire for him that flared any time she saw him outside of class.

He seemed to be handling it a whole lot better than she was, with that smirk of his and his cocky swagger. He had his own gaggle of fangirl study partners now and it didn’t make her jealous. She knew he looked at them as kids and treated them the way he would treat his sister, but it irked her that he didn’t seem to be bothered by her presence, the way she was by his.

***

Jasper had what he decided was the brilliant idea to film some of Clarke’s classes, after listening to her about how well things were going one day. He wanted to post them on her youtube channel, which seemed to be gaining quite a few views, just on the basis of the back stage footage and out-takes from their show. The History Channel was encouraging him in his social media campaign, just as they had encouraged her in her scholarship and professorial experience. Clarke was still uncomfortable with being semi-famous, but her bosses seemed to consider her an investment. There had even been some conversation about having her publish a mass market book. She still didn’t quite believe it, but she seemed to have a career that was going somewhere.

She had almost forgotten about the filming when she walked into her class to see Monty with his cameras and Jasper with his laptop. He had even recruited Lincoln to serve as a second cameraman. Clarke had seen Lincoln’s photos and thought they were fine art, a talent far beyond the needs of a youtube classroom vid. But, whatever. Maybe Jasper was trying to get him a gig with the History Channel. She’d love it if their success could help out her friends. At first it was awkward, when the class filtered into the room and was introduced to the film makers, but they were unobtrusive and soon they went on with their class as usual.

She forgot about the filming again when she was in the middle of class, the discussion had gotten heated again, as it often did when Bellamy and Clarke faced off over a topic. All of a sudden she looked up to a lens pointing at her, and she remembered, laughing at herself and then smiling at her class. “And that’s about it for today. Sorry about the cameras again, they’ll be filming for a bit longer.” They’d all signed releases already, but she still felt weird that her two lives, as academic and as semi-famous History Channel host, were colliding in her classroom. She shook it off and got back to teaching, collecting the reading responses and reminding them of the upcoming final project presentations.

***

Friday. 

Bar. 

Raven scrolling through her tablet, her mouth propped open in a seemingly permanent shock.

“Holy. Shit.” She looked up at Clarke, her eyes wide. “Ho. Ly. Shit.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do about this?”

“I don’t know, what do you want to do? Sue?”

“I don’t want to sue my students for writing smutty stories about me!”

“I mean, it’s kind of flattering. They think you’re hot and smart and sexy and a dirty dirty girl.” She couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. “And apparently you belong with Bellamy. Seriously, I told you. This is too good.”

“How am I supposed to deal with this in my class? Do I address it? Do I just pretend it doesn’t exist These are my STUDENTS. They know all about it. They are sitting there while I teach, imagining me and Bellamy together.”

“Not for nothing, babe, but everybody is doing that.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

Raven shrugged like she wasn’t making a joke but decided to let it go. “Also, how many students do you have in your class? 30? You’ve got a lot more smutty fan fiction authors writing about you than just 30. Wow. I think it’s time you stop calling yourself semi-famous. You’re like an internet sensation.”

“It was that class video that Jasper posted on my Youtube channel. Apparently people thought that Bellamy and I arguing was…”

“Super hot. Yeah. You’ve gone viral. I’d already seen that video. I’m glad you said something. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I saw the comments, too. Lots of love. Lots of hate, too. I guess that’s where all the new fan fiction came from. You and Bellamy certainly inspire passion in your fans.”

“Shit. He did not sign up for this. Goddammit, Raven, I at least get a tv show out of it.”

“Has he even seen any of this?”

Clarke looked at her in dread. Had he? Did he know about the viral video and fan comments? His fans? Oh god did he know about the smut? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m going to pretend none of it ever happened. No fan fiction. No viral video. No Bellarke fans. I’m just going to go back and teach the end of my class and enjoy it, because it really has been an awesome class and I love teaching.”

“Now that I’ve seen the video, I can see that yeah, it is an awesome class, and I can also see that you love… teaching.”

Clarke glared at her. “I do.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ok. ‘Teaching’.”

***

It was almost finals week. Bellamy was waiting for her outside of class, leaning against the wall, looking delicious.

“Are we going to talk about this?” He asked, his cheeks flushed.

He’d seen the fan fiction, she knew then. 

“Nope.”

“Really?” he looked doubtful. “Just ignore it?”

“I have been. For weeks,” she said.

“You knew about this weeks ago?” His eyebrows were drawn together like he couldn’t believe it.

“I am desperately trying to maintain professional boundaries, here.” Clarke said to him, grasping at the folders in her arms, like a shield.

He pressed his lips together and nodded, considering. “You read it.”

“It’s far better if I continue doing my job as if none of this fan stuff is going on at all. I’m trying to be a professional.”

“Do you expect me to pretend it doesn’t exist?”

“They’re your classmates, you have a different relationship to them than I do. If you want to address them, that’s up to you, but I need to maintain…”

“Your professional boundaries.” A muscle in his jaw leapt to life.

“Yes. This must be very awkward for you, and I’m sorry this had to happen. I know I’m under a level of public scrutiny, but it’s not really fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You’re sorry.” She looked at him then, surprised.

“You’re angry with me.”

“I don’t really have a right to be angry with you, do I? You’re just my professor.”

She looked away, trying to ignore the arrow to her heart. “Are you ready for your final presentation?” she asked, not really happy with the way her voice was shaking. “I wanted to thank you again for agreeing to do it for the camera.”

Bellamy snorted. “Yeah. I’m ready, professor. See you in class tomorrow.” He stalked off down the hall, in the other direction.

She stared off after him, trying to hold the tears back.


	7. New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Class is over. 
> 
> New Years Eve at Bellamy's bar.

This time, as she sat in Raven’s apartment, waiting for her to get dressed, she didn’t even pretend that she didn’t want to go to Moonshine, even if it was out on the ass end of Queens. She didn’t complain about dressing up. She didn’t say anything about not knowing what to do.

Finals were over. The grades had already been submitted. Bellamy Blake was no longer in her class. She’d spent the last week out in Connecticut with her parents. It was great catching up with them, sharing the opportunities that were coming her way, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Bellamy.

When Raven came out, dressed in her usual red, because she was not the retiring sort, she looked at Clarke. “Did you dress yourself?” she asked, surprised.

“What kind of question— of course I dressed myself. I’m an adult.”

“It’s just… you’re sexy. And you don’t usually do sexy.”

Clarke looked down at herself. She’d picked a simple black dress that went to her knees, but was cut to show off her cleavage and clung to all of her curves like liquid. The heels were strappy and her eye makeup was smoky, but she wore only a touch of clear gloss and her hair had been left to wave naturally down her back, as if she had just gotten up from bed. “It’s New Years Eve, Raven. You’re supposed to dress up.” Clarke picked up her wrap and covered her shoulders with it. “Stop stalling. Let’s go.”

Raven looked at her and didn’t say anything. An unusual occurrence. 

“You dressed up for him.”

“I dressed up for New Years Eve.”

“Uh huh,” Raven said, not buying it. “I thought you had a fight.”

“I did not have a fight with my student, Raven. That would be ridiculous.”

“Well, yeah, but you had a fight with your boyfriend.”

Clarke startled. “He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve never even kissed him. We’ve never even been alone together.”

Raven narrowed her eyes at Clarke. 

Clarke blushed and turned to open the door. “Can we just go now?”

Raven held onto her elbow and pulled her back. “You want to see him.”

Clarke waved a hand in dismissal, although she still avoided Raven’s eyes. “I’m a professor, Raven and he’s a student. You know it can’t…”

“But you’re not HIS professor anymore.”

Clarke felt her blush spread to the rest of her body. She swallowed. “I miss him,” she whispered and was surprised at how she could barely get the words out.

“Clarke. You’re in love with him.”

She just looked at Raven, fighting the urge to cry. She couldn’t deny it. But she couldn’t admit it.

“Oh,” said Raven, shaking her head. “You poor bastards.” She sighed, leading Clarke out the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

…

Moonshine was hopping. The crowd was lively and gorgeous and dressed to the nines, topped off by fancy hats and glittery tiaras and dripping with beads. The party was already well underway by the time they got there.

Bellamy must have been waiting for them to arrive because he was the first person Clarke saw when she walked in the door. He was sitting at the end of the bar and his eyes met hers, and then he was there, standing only feet from her. Both too close and too far away. 

“Hi,” she said, biting her lip to keep the smile from blooming.

“You came,” he said. He didn’t look happy.

“Octavia invited us,” Clarke said. She was suddenly worried. 

“I haven’t seen you around,” he said, and it sounded like an accusation.

“I was at my parents house for Christmas. I thought you knew.”

He shook his head and looked at the floor. “Grades are all out.”

“If you did as well in your other classes as you did in mine, you should be very proud of yourself,” Clarke smiled at him but it felt forced. This whole conversation felt forced. It was all wrong.

His lips were compressed in a tight line and his eyes were narrowed. “Yeah, well. I should probably take care of some stuff,” he said. 

Clarke just stood there, blinking at him. 

“Octavia’s got the vip section in the back for your party,” he said. The dismissal couldn’t be more clear, but Clarke couldn’t move. And he refused to, glaring down at her.

Raven finally couldn’t take it any longer and stepped between them, smacking him on the chest with the back of her hand. “All right there, Shooter. We’re gonna go find the better Blake, come find us if you’re done being a dick.” She grabbed Clarke’s elbow and dragged her behind her.

“Nice to see you too, Raven,” Bellamy called, sarcastically, and yet with far more warmth than he’d shown Clarke.

Once they were lost in the crowd, Clarke grabbed at Raven’s arm. “What did I do, Raven? Why was he so angry?”

“That,” Raven raised her brows, “Is a fight with your boyfriend.”

“I can’t be in a fight with him if we’ve never even kissed. Raven, it’s not fair. I can’t even go on a date with him, and he’s mad at me.”

“If you ask me, that’s why he’s mad at you.”

“But I don’t have any control over that,” Clarke cried, frustrated. 

Raven shrugged. “I don’t know if I would let the student thing stop me. He’s a grown man. You’re a grown woman. You’re both single, and this is clearly more than just some skeevy professor leering at the impressionable undergrad. You’re fucking in love with him. People sleep with their professors all the time, without as much cause as you two have.”

“Are you sure that it’s more than just some professor/student thing? I mean, how do I even know he isn’t into me because I’m a woman of authority and it turns him on? Maybe he’s got a thing for powerful women?”

Raven scoffed. “Come on, Clarke. Even if he did have a thing for powerful women, it’s who you are, so whoever you’re with had better like you fucking kicking ass and taking names. You are looking for excuses to not be with him.”

“I’ve only got one, Raven. I’m a professor and he’s a student and it’s ethically and morally wrong.”

“It’s not as black and white as you are making it out to be.”

“I don’t know how to be any other way. I can only try to do what I think is right.” She tried to keep the tear from escaping her eye, but Raven saw it roll down her cheek.

“Jesus, Clarke. That’s enough. You can’t do this to yourself anymore. If you refuse to do something about Bellamy then you’ve got to let some air into the situation. Get drunk. Let loose. Dance all night. Find someone to grind up against and have fun. Take them home and release some of that sexual tension. You’re so tightly wound you can’t even see straight.”

“I am not going to have a one night stand just because Bellamy—“ Clarke stopped in the middle of the crowd.

“Just because Bellamy what?” Raven turned around to face her. 

“I don’t think he wants me anymore.”

“Nope.” Raven shook her head in disgust. “Not gonna happen.” She steered Clarke into the dance room and straight to the bar, ordering two double shots of tequila and two fancy elderflower martinis. She handed one double shot to Clarke.

“Fuck Raven, that’s a lot of alcohol.”

“Are you saying you don’t need it?”

“No,” she sighed. “I think I need it.”

Raven nodded. “Get drunk. Let Loose. Dance all night. You can take the rest under consideration, but you’re going to start on the first right now. Drink.”

So she did. And by the time they found Octavia, dancing in the middle of a crowd of barely dressed women, Clarke was actually feeling much better. It had been a long time since she had just let go and danced.

She didn’t know how long she had been dancing before she looked over and saw him, on the edge of the dance floor talking to a tall gorgeous brunette. The sleeves of his black silk shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. The woman reached a hand out and put it on his forearm. Clarke’s breath just about stopped. That woman could touch him, and she couldn’t. 

Just then, he looked over at her and their eyes met. He raised an eyebrow, like a challenge.

“Are you okay?” Niylah, the woman she was dancing with, asked.

She’d stopped dancing and was just standing there. Bellamy glared.

“I think I’d like a drink,” Clarke told her. 

“I’m thirsty, too,” Niylah said and she took her hand and led her to the bar. 

“Tequila?” Clarke asked Niylah, because goddammit she felt like tequila was the only thing that could make it go away.

Niylah grinned. “Body shots?”

Clarke laughed and shot a glance over at Bellamy. He’d turned to watch her, but he was still talking to the brunette and she was pressed up against his side, laughing at something. Who the hell knew what. “Yeah, okay. Body shots.” She ordered the tequila and Niylah pulled her long dark blonde hair back from her neck. She tilted her head and pulled her dress over to expose an expanse of pale skin.

She had a lovely collar bone and a long graceful neck. At least she would get something enjoyable out of this. She licked Niylah’s clavicle and then salted it. Her skin was very soft and warm and tasted of girl. It was nice to be so close to someone. Clarke licked her again, slowly, salty, and drank the shot. The lime was between Niylah’s lips, waiting, and she took it with her own, but Niylah did not let her go. She smiled at her, one arm around her neck and then removed the lime and kissed her.

It should have been enjoyable. But it wasn’t. All she could think about was Bellamy and it wasn’t right to kiss Niylah, who under different circumstance would have been someone she might have pursued. Clarke pulled back and she let her go.

“No?” Niylah said, wryly.

Clarke shook her head. “I’m sorry… I—I’m with someone.” 

She didn’t even know why she said those words. She wasn’t, she had no right to say that. She jumped off the bar stool and pushed through the crowd, looking for somewhere to be alone, out of the noise and celebration. She was heading down the hall to the bathroom when she heard her name behind her.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said. He took her elbow and led her into an office, locking the door behind him. The music quieted to a dull thrumming that no longer filled her head. 

Clarke backed away from him, bumping into a desk in her efforts to get away, just get away from everything.

“Do you think I like this?” she said, her voice was hoarse and she hated the way she could hear the tears rising in her throat. “Do you think this is fun for me?”

“You looked like you were having fun to me,” he said and his eyes were hard and glittered darkly. 

She laughed bitterly. “I’m TRYING to forget about you. Just for a minute. Because you clearly don’t want to have anything to do with me. You’d rather rub up against tall brunettes than talk to me.”

He snorted. “You were doing your own rubbing up, Clarke. In my bar. Right in front of me.”

She frowned. “What?

“The dance floor, Clarke. You and Niylah, who is, by the way, a friend of mine.”

She thought back. They had been dancing. She’d had a lot of booze and yeah, it was definitely getting sweaty and frictiony. It had been fun to let loose, and she had taken Raven’s advice apparently, although she didn’t remember deciding to do so. Suddenly she realized why Niylah had thought she would be receptive to the kiss, because Clarke had definitely been grinding on her. It hadn’t meant anything to her, but she could see why others might have thought it was significant. “Oh,” Clarke said, her face hot with embarrassment. “I’ve had too much to drink. I should go home. I shouldn’t even have come.”

“It’s almost midnight. You can’t go. You wouldn’t even be able to get a taxi.” He snapped, glowering.

“You clearly don’t want me here, I’m sorry I bothered you. It’s just I missed you.” Saying the words out loud deflated her. Being drunk no longer propped her up or helped her forget, it just made her realize how sad and lonely and heartbroken she was. She looked at Bellamy as he stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring at her. “I’m so sorry. None of this is fair. If I had just met you a few months before school started maybe it all would be different but as it is, I think it’s all impossible—“

“Clarke,” he said and she looked into his eyes at the emotion in his voice. “Say my name.”

“What?”

“You never say my name. You only call me Mr Blake, never Bellamy.”

“That’s not true. I say your name.” This didn’t make sense.

He shook his head. “No. Not since I introduced myself to you. You call me Mr Blake in the classroom, and then outside of the classroom, you don’t call me anything at all. It’s just…I…” he hung his head. “I don’t know who I am to you.”

Had she never called him Bellamy? She had said his name to other people, but she thought he was right. She didn’t know why she hadn’t used his name. She took a step towards him, upset for him. Upset for herself.

“Clarke,” he said again and his voice was barely a whisper. It reached down into her and heat flared. “Say my name.”

She took another step closer, her eyes locked on his, warm, hurt. She wanted to make him feel better. “Bellamy,” He took a breath and his chest expanded. She suddenly knew why she had never spoken his name to him. Because when she said the word ‘Bellamy’ what she was really saying was sweetheart.

She took another step towards him. “Bellamy,” she said and heard darling.

She reached out and put her hand on his forearm, where the brunette had touched him. He stared down at her, his face soft, vulnerable. She rose her hand to cup his cheek.

“Bellamy.” My love. 

The music that had been coming, muffled, through the door, suddenly cut off. They could hear people shouting. “Ten! Nine! Eight!” They looked up, shocked that the night had gone on without them. The countdown continued.

“I didn’t plan this,” Bellamy said as he tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. “But I so wanted it.”

“Seven! Six! Five!”

His other arm went around her waist and drew her close pressing her up against the length of him. She sighed and melted into him.

“Four! Three! Two!”

“Is this okay?” he asked her. 

She nodded and tilted her face to him, letting her eyes slide shut. Letting go. Giving in.

“One! Happy New Year!” The crowd on the other side of the door shouted.

“Happy New Year, Clarke,” he whispered against her lips and she shivered as he kissed her. He was soft, his so soft lips, gentle against hers until she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, opening to let in his tongue, hot and wet. She was desperate for him, for this touch, this connection. They had waited so long and she couldn’t get enough.

She was back on the desk, leaning up against it, his shirt unbuttoned and half off, finally getting the chance to run her hands over his chest and let her tongue follow, teasingly.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, his hands drew back from her bare thighs, smoothing her dress back down, before grasping her arms and stepping back from her mouth and trailing fingers. “Clarke,” he repeated. “We have to stop.”

Clarke shook her head, her eyes half closed and reached for his pants.

“Clarke, no.” He took her wrists and held her back.

“Bellamy,” she breathed. “I want you, please, Bellamy…” she knew she was pleading and she didn’t care.

“But you don’t want me like this. I know you don’t. I know what you believe in and right now you’re just too drunk to remember it.”

She glared up at him, her mouth feeling tingly and over sensitized. “Bellamy, are you refusing to take advantage of me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I am. That’s something that I believe in. I don’t sleep with drunk women who otherwise wouldn’t sleep with me.”

“I would, Bellamy. I want to. I’ve wanted to ever since I first saw you. Let me show you.”

“I won’t let you. Not like this.”

She pulled her wrists out of his hands, angrily, covering her face with them and then running them through her hair, grabbing onto the back of her own neck as if she had to hold onto something or she would reach for him again. “Fuck you, Bellamy.”

He grinned, and stepped back watching her while he buttoned his shirt back up. “I like it when you curse at me, professor.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Asshole.”

“You don’t have to be a good professional with me, Clarke, okay? It’s okay to relax with me, and just be you.”

“No it’s not, Bellamy. Because I’m in love with you, and I want to kiss you and hold you and wake up with you and argue with you and curse at you and hold your hand and—“ Clarke broke off her litany with a sob and suddenly she was melting into tears. “Fuck!” she said, but she couldn’t stop crying. “Goddamn tequila!” 

But then Bellamy was there, and he wrapped his strong arms around her and just held her while she cried. “It’s okay Clarke, I know.” She tucked her face into the crook between his neck and shoulder and even though the tears still came, it was different. His warmth and scent and solidity made her feel safe.

When the tears petered out, she still held onto him because it just felt so good to have him in her arms. She had wanted it so long. “Thank you, Bellamy,” she whispered into his skin.

He pulled back enough to kiss her forehead and look her in the eye. “I’m in love with you, too, you know,” he said.

Clarke’s eyes widened at his words. “Did I say that?” he nodded. “Damn tequila. I didn’t mean to say that, to make you feel like you had to, Bellamy. It’s too much. We haven’t even—“

“It’s okay, Clarke.” 

Clarke stood back and wiped the tears from her face. “Raven said that you’re my boyfriend. I told her no, that we hadn’t—“

“Clarke,” he said, stopping her. She looked at him. He smiled gently and nodded. 

Clarke was suddenly having trouble breathing. She raised her eyebrows in a question that she couldn’t ask out loud. He nodded again, more firmly. She smiled back and nodded in agreement. And they stood there, happy to be what they were to each other, even if they couldn’t say it out loud.

Then his face darkened. “But no more kissing other people. No more grinding on them, not girls or guys. I will wait for you, but I won’t— that can’t— even if we aren’t, Clarke, I can’t think you might be doing it with other people.”

“Okay. You too,” she agreed easily. “I don’t want anyone else, Bellamy. But you can’t get angry at me because we can’t be public about it.”

It was his turn to run his fingers through his hair. “I can’t guarantee I won’t get angry, Clarke. This situation sucks and I want you and I’m confused and frustrated. It’s so hard to be around you and not have you and it’s harder to not be around you at all. But I will try not to direct it at you.” She frowned at him. “ I’ll make you a deal. If I am angry at you, I will tell you. I won’t make you guess or wonder or think I don’t want you. Fair?”

“Same,” she said, and stared at him. She really wanted to be back in his arms.

He bit his lip. “We should probably get you out of here. Raven is going to come looking for you.”

She walked to the door and turned around momentarily. “How much of a mess do I look?”

“Not too bad,” he said, stepping up once more to her. He smiled and gently held her face between his hands. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he wiped his thumbs under her eyes, removing the smudged makeup. “Smoky eyes are hard to mess up. You are beautiful.”

Clarke sighed. “One more kiss, Bellamy, please? Who knows when we’ll get to be alone again.”

He held up his finger and mouthed the word, ‘one,’ and his mouth came down on hers, lips teasing, lightly, his breath mixing with hers, his tongue sliding along hers. Her hands came up his back and rested there, feeling is muscles flex as he caressed her. And when she would have deepened the kiss, he pulled back, his forehead touching hers, breathing heavily.

“Bellamy.” That was all she said. “Bellamy.” He closed his eyes to hear it. “Bellamy.”

“Okay,” he said and he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped back. “One only.” He unlocked the door and gestured for her to go through.

When they found Raven, he handed Clarke over to her. “She’s had too much to drink, you should probably take her home.”

Raven gaped at him. 

“Thanks, Bellamy,” Clarke said with a smile, knowing what she meant. By his smile, so did he. He nodded and turned around disappearing into the crowded bar.

“Dammit, Clarke. I thought you left with Niylah, and here you are coming back in with Bellamy. Did you screw him?”

“No. Nothing like that. We just worked things out.”

Raven looked at her suspiciously. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Clarke sighed. “I’m really tired and I am emotionally wasted. There was some crying involved and I just want to go to sleep, okay?” hoping that was enough to throw Raven off the track. She didn’t really want to talk about anything any way. She was happy to know that he loved her and she loved him, whether or not they could actually be together right this minute.

Raven compressed her lips.

“Just so you know, you’re the one that made me start with the tequila, so I blame you for my state.”

Raven nodded. “Fair enough,” and in moments flat they had collected their things and made their goodbyes and started for home.


	8. Administration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is called into the Dean's office to discuss the online hullabaloo

She was just back from winter break when Clarke was called into Dean Jaha’s office. The History Dept Chair and the Dean of Students was also there. It was an uncomfortable meeting in which the whole Bellarke fandom, smut fan fiction and comment drama on the class videos was laid out on the table.

She should have felt terrible, but in the end, she just felt relieved.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Bellamy hurtled into the room, standing in front of Clarke where she stood, braving the shocked faces of the deans and department chairs.

“It wasn’t Clarke. Please. Don’t penalize her. I’m the one. I pursued her,” Bellamy said, breathless. He must have run all the way from wherever he was when he found out about the meeting.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, reaching out for his hand to pull him back from whatever extreme action he seemed to be willing to commit next.

“No, Clarke. I won’t have your career ruined because I fell in love with you.” 

“Mr Blake,” Dean Jaha said in his deep, formal voice that always made Clarke feel like she was not quite worthy of his address. Right now, it was filled with amusement. “We are not in the business of ruining careers. These things happen.”

“What?” he sputtered. “They do?” Clarke pulled him back to stand next to her. He looked at her, confused.

“On occasion. And when they do, we request that the student/professor relationships are reported to the dean so that we can make sure no impropriety takes place, no favoritism in class or grades—“

“We didn’t even kiss until after grades were in,” Bellamy frowned. “There was no favoritism…” he turned to Clarke, “Was there?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Do you think that with all of the arguing we did that I really just gave you a grade that you didn’t earn?” He looked doubtful. “See,” she said. “That’s why I said we couldn’t do this until I wasn’t your professor. Even you aren’t sure.”

“You said we couldn’t do this until you weren’t a professor here at all.”

“It turns out,” Clarke smiled, then ducked her head. She was surprised how shy she felt. “I was wrong.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Officially, student and professor relationships are frowned upon. Officially, rules are in place to protect the students, but if it happens, there are allowances.”

“What?” He took a step towards her, his face lightening.

“It’s clear, Mr Blake, that you are not a naive young person being taken advantage of by an older authority figure.”

“I’m older than she is. But she’s my professor.”

“Not anymore,” the Marcus Kane, the chair of the History Department turned to him. “I’m glad to hear that you both abstained until after grades were posted. That makes things simpler to deal with. I have actually reviewed the videos of your class sessions that were at the heart of this controversy, as well as your final presentation .”

“So you heard about that,” Bellamy asked. “That wasn’t us. We were just having class discussions. All those comments are just that. Comments from the peanut gallery, no matter what they thought about what we were doing, we weren’t.”

“You don’t have to argue with me, Mr Blake,” Professor Kane said, one eyebrow cocked and a sly grin, looking back and forth between the two of them. Somehow, Clarke knew that he perhaps agreed with the peanut gallery, at least to some extent. Was he joining the Bellarke fandom, too? “What I’m trying to tell you is that I watched the class videos and your presentation, and I can clearly see that you are not only deserving of the grade you received, but quite advanced for a freshman. Professor Griffin informs me that you have done a lot of personal research long before you started your undergraduate studies?”

“Well, yes,” Bellamy said, his eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. “I love history.”

“You’ve declared a history major, but have yet to choose an advisor,” Dean Kane said. “I am willing to serve as your advisor if you are amenable.”

Clarke clutched Bellamy’s hand. The Dean of history wanted to take him under his wing. 

“That would be…great,” Bellamy said, and he squeezed her hand back. 

“Very good.” Dean Jaha said. “If you could both sign these statement of relationship papers, then you can be on your way.”

A few signatures later, Bellamy and Clarke stood in the hall outside of the dean’s office.

“Did that just happen?” Bellamy asked her.

Clarke looked up at him and grinned. “Yeah.” She leaned into him, and tilted her face up to his kiss. He touched his lips to hers and then pulled back.

“Does this feel weird to you?” He wrinkled his nose and looked down the hall, both ways.

“What?” Clarke asked, then made a face. “Actually yeah. Kissing in an academic building? Totally weird.”

“It’s okay if we want to stay private,” he said to her, his voice low and quiet and doing unimaginable things to her body.

She laughed, and it came out deep and sensual. His eyes darkened. “As if we’ll be allowed to stay private with our friends who are weirdly invested in what has been going on between us,” she bit her lip. “Unless…” she said.

“Unless what?”

“Unless,” Clarke chuckled, “we don’t let them know that we’re allowed to be together now.”

“What are you saying? You want to keep our relationship a secret?”

“You know those bets they have on us?”

“About when we get together?”

“Mmhm.” Clarke nodded, watching his lips.

“What about them?”

“How about we fuck with them a little?”

He grinned, and his eyes sparkled. “I like that idea.”

“So we just don’t tell them? Not anyone? Even your sister? You’re good with that?”

“We just don’t tell them. Frankly, my sister is waaaay too invested in my love life,” he said. “I’m good with not telling her. You know what else I’m good with?”

“What?” she asked. She was having a hard time not jumping him, honestly.

He pulled her close so she was pressed up against him, hip to shoulder. The contact nearly made her explode. “That we’re together now,” he said. His eyes were so warm, so deep, she couldn’t look away. “We’re together now, right?”

She inhaled involuntarily, her chest pressing up against his. “Yes,” her lashes fluttered at him, also not under her control. “Yes.”

And then he kissed her. His lips were soft and sure, tasting, exploring, claiming hers. She wrapped her arms around her neck and tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Oh she loved his hair. And his lips, and his shoulders, and the way he argued with her and the way he warmed up her body so she melted into him.

A clatter of footsteps came from down the hall. A group in the stair well. 

Clarke and Bellamy pulled apart. Clarke stepped back to the other side of the hall and leaned back against the wall there, while Bellamy leaned against his wall. By the time the group came through, heading to a meeting room, all there was to show who they were to each other was the way they looked at each other, but the strangers never even noticed them.

“So you want to come over to my place tonight?” Clarke asked, when the crowd was gone.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Bellamy grinned. “But I don’t know where you live. I don’t even have your cel phone number, we never exchanged them.”

Clarke raised her eyebrow and grinned back at him. “It would have been too dangerous… before.”

The elevator opened and two of Clarke’s colleagues passed through the hall. Clarke nodded and smiled at them, then opened up her notebook and wrote out a note. The professors stood outside an office, talking and Clarke handed Bellamy the note.

“There’s the information you need, Mr Blake,” she said and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

It was her address, phone number. A time.

“Thanks, professor,” Bellamy smirked.

Clarke nodded, licked her lips once. “See you around, Mr Blake,” she said, and slipped into the elevator before the door could close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so upon further research, what I have learned is... professor/student relationships aren't always a problem. There is some leeway allowed for......
> 
> LOVE!!!
> 
> It turns out, academia likes love, too.
> 
> So here we end the angst. Woohoo.


	9. Talk Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone at last.
> 
> ?

Clarke was home. She’d changed clothes three times already, and still wasn’t sure if the clingy soft knit dress was the right thing to wear. What did one wear when inviting one’s boyfriend over to one’s house for the first time, full well knowing that one was going to…

“Fuck.” She pulled the dress off and tossed it into the back of her closet, before yanking on her favorite jeans and tank top. She might be underdressed, but it was better than trying too hard. Better to be at least comfortable, be herself.

Clarke was home waiting for Bellamy to show up so they could touch.

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Why did she tell him to come over so late? There was too much waiting involved already. She looked out the window. She could see the street from where she was. She didn’t know if he would be walking to her place, or taking a subway, or a taxi. She didn’t even know if he had a car. 

She poured herself a glass of wine. She should probably make him something. Appetizers. Something to welcome him to her place. She took out a cheeseboard and laid out some brie and crackers and grapes and set them over on her coffee table, then went back for the bottle of wine.

Shouldn’t he be here by now? She poured herself another glass of wine and slipped off her shoes, tucking her feet under her thighs and turning on the tv. Maybe something mindless would distract her. The cable channel she turned to was playing a commercial for a marathon of her show. 

Clarke grimaced and turned the tv off, putting music on instead. Something mature and calming, maybe. Jazz. Nothing too weird. Jazz standards. Some Ella and Satchmo. She didn’t want him to think she only listened to Taylor Swift or something. She filled her glass.

The buzzer rang and she nearly knocked over her glass.

“Shit,” she said to the empty air of her apartment, which seemed to have suddenly lost its oxygen, and padded over to the intercom. She pressed the button. “Hello?”

“Hey,” his disembodied voice came back through the staticky box. Her staticky heart. She buzzed him in, waiting for the click of the door closing behind him.

“Shit,” she said again, leaning her head against the cool metal of the door, so that when he inevitably knocked on it, she just about jumped out of her own skin. She flexed her fingers and tried to get her shit together. It was harder than it should be to unlock that deadbolt and let him in, but she finally opened the door.

Whatever words she had half formed to greet him died on her tongue upon seeing him with that grin, and that dark look through his eyelashes, the broad spread of his shoulders underneath his coat and the way his scarf draped the muscles underneath his thin sweater. 

“Hi,” he said. His voice was so deep, and soft, her eyes fluttered closed for just a second. 

She shook her head and huffed a laugh, pulling the door all the way open and stepping back. “Come in, Bellamy.”

Rather than coming all the way in, he stopped right in front of her, tilting his head down to her, his smile still in place. He pulled out a tiny bouquet of crocuses.

He brought her flowers. She remembered then how much she liked him. Aside from the sexual tension and nerves and how pretty he was, she just liked him. She took the flowers and sniffed them. “They smell like spring,” she said.

“For new beginnings.”

She closed the door and grabbed his hand, leading him to the couch where she sat, tucking her leg under her and leaning into the corner so she could look at him as he took off his coat and draped it over the arm of the couch.

“I see you’ve started the wine without me,” he nodded at her full glass of wine. She shrugged, a little embarrassed. His grin widened slightly. “Do you mind if I catch up?”

She gestured at him to go ahead while she watched him, her nose buried in the crocuses. He sat on the other side of the couch and picked up the bottle of wine, tipping it into the empty glass waiting beside the cheese and crackers. 

A couple of tablespoons poured into the glass, and that was it. He held it upside down to drain the last drops and looked back at her and tilted his head.

“I might have been a little nervous,” she said, through the flowers.

He nodded his head once and slid closer to her, reaching out and removing the very, very full glass of wine that she had placed near her on the coffee table. “Do you mind if I drink this?” he asked, his eyebrow raised at her. “Because I told you before that I don’t want you to be drunk when we are together for the first time. I want to know that whatever we do, you are totally onboard. And I want you to know that you are into it too. I don’t want us to be alcohol induced.”

Clarke dropped the flowers she was hiding behind and bit her lip. “I’m sorry. You take the wine. I didn’t realize I was going to be so nervous about us finally being together.”

“There’s nothing final about this, Clarke. It’s a start, okay? We don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. There’s time to figure everything out.”

Clarke couldn’t actually believe him. “Really?”

“What?” He sat back, puzzled by her reaction.

“You’re going to take away my wine so I don’t lose my inhibitions and then you’re going to say we should wait more because I’m nervous? You’re not just going to seduce me or something? Or maybe get me something stronger?”

He laughed. “Do you want me to get you drunk and seduce you?”

She actually had to think about it, she eyed the big glass of wine, then she eyed his full lips. “No,” she said, regretfully. “Bellamy, I know you think you know me, but I suck at this relationship thing. There is a littered wasteland of broken hearts behind me, including my own. Are you sure you really want to do this?”

He cocked his eyebrow at her and took the glass of wine, taking a sip, looking at her over the rim of the glass, then taking a large swallow. “What ‘this?’” He put the glass down and leaned forward so that he was hovering over her where she reclined. “This?” he asked as he touched his lips to hers, only lips, nothing else, just the softness of his lips against hers, a gentle nibble, a slanting, and the heat of his insistence against her mouth. She parted her lips for him, but he only sucked gently on her bottom lip for a second, before pulling back a handful of inches from her. She chased his lips, but he stayed out of her reach. “Do you want to do this?”

She blinked at him without words, drowning in his warm dark eyes. She nodded.

He smiled and hummed to himself. “I don’t know,” he said. “I have to think if I REALLY want to do this.” He sat back and picked up the glass again, licking his lips before taking another swallow, watching her watch him.

“You prick,” she gasped, then couldn’t help but grin at him. 

He nodded in assent. “So what do you think? Should we open up another bottle of wine and get drunk so we can pretend this is just fucking?”

She shook her head slowly, sitting up, then leaning forward, taking the stupid wine glass out of his hand and putting it back on the table. She pushed against his chest gently until he lay back on the cushions and she could lean up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “When you’re not around and I think about you I start going around and around about what it all means or could mean or everything that could go wrong and I forget how much I just like being with you.” 

His eyes opened wide and the tension in his body evaporated. 

She kissed the scar above his lip, because she had been watching it for months, and because she could. “If I start freaking out, Bellamy, could you remind me?”

He breathed out and nodded, before cradling her face in his hands and pulling her down to kiss him, no teasing this time. She licked his upper lip and he opened to her, his tongue velvety against hers. His hands ran down her back, trailing shivers in their wake. When she slid her lips to his ear and nibbled on his lobe, he made a low sound in his throat and she found herself clenching with the vibrations. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. Her hands went to the hem of his sweater and under it, feeling his hard muscles and warm, soft skin. God she’d been waiting for this. Fuck it. She pulled it up over his head and off. He let her.

“I thought you were afraid of this, Clarke?”

“Shut up, Bellamy, you talk too much,” she growled and he laughed, and whipped her own tank top off of her, leaving her in only a midnight blue, lace bra. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” she said as his tongue washed over the skin spilling over her bra. Her head fell back as he gently bit her nipple through the lace.

She gasped. “So are you, Bellamy,” she said her hands mapping out his beautiful chest. “I knew you would be, but none of my fantasies even come close to who you actually are.”

“Me either, Princess.”

Clarke laughed and sat up straddled, on his lap. The contact suddenly made them both gasp and Clarke bit her lip. “You read those fan fictions, didn’t you? With Xena?”

“I read them all, Clarke. You’re my warrior princess, and none of those fan fictions have the slightest clue of what I’m going to do you.” She ground her pelvis against him and he groaned. “Oh Clarke,” and reached for her to bring her into a kiss again.

Her phone rang. It was the Raven’s ringtone. “Oh shit,” Clarke said.

“Ignore it,” Bellamy said reaching up to fasten his lips on her neck.

“I can’t! It’s Raven. Do you know what happens if you don’t answer Raven? Oh god, what if she’s…” Clarke put one hand against his chest to hold him back. She grabbed her phone off the coffee table and answered. “Raven?” she asked.

Bellamy let out a frustrated sigh. Clarke moved her hand from his chest to his mouth. He glared at her, but then got a devilish look.

“Hey, Clarke! You are doing entirely too much moping lately. I’m not going to let you do it anymore.”

Bellamy’s eyes sparkled. He licked her palm. She would have pulled her hand back, but he grabbed it and held it to his mouth. His tongue ran up her finger and then bit the pad. She blinked at him.

“Wait, what? Raven? What are you saying,” she realized she hadn’t answered her friend.

Bellamy was now sucking on her pointer finger, shooting a jolt of pleasure to her center.

“I’m coming up, Clarke. No more moping.”

“What Raven? No! I really don’t feel good. I think I’m coming down with something.” She looked at Bellamy, who had stopped sucking on her finger, her eyes wide. “Don’t come up.”

“The hell I’m not. I want to watch this movie and your tv is better.”

Clarke hung up the phone and jumped off of Bellamy’s lap, racing to the door to latch the chain. 

“Just don’t buzz her in, Clarke, she’ll get the hint.”

Clarke gaped at him. “Have you even MET Raven? Plus she has a key.” She grabbed him by the hand and yanked him up from the couch, stuffing his shirt and coat into his arms. 

“I’ll sneak out before she gets here,” he said, a bit of her urgency sneaking into his tone.

“No, Bellamy, she’s already here. She’s walking up the stairs. I know she is. Fuck. You have to hide. Shit, look at all this, wine and cheese. She’s never going to believe I’m sick.” She grabbed the bottle and the two half empty glasses of wine and shoved them into his hands, pushing him back to the bedroom. She whirled around and grabbed the cheese board, following him into her bedroom and putting it down on her bedside table. “You stay quiet in here. I’ll get rid of her. I promise.”

Bellamy was looking at her like she was crazy as he sat on her bed and watched her grab an old sweatshirt from the back of her closet door.

“You know, we could just tell her that we’ve received the University’s blessing to date.”

She poked her head through the sweatshirt to see his borderline offended expression. “And let them win? Hell no. They’ve been fucking with us from the very beginning. They are not getting this.”

He threw his head back and laughed at her. She rushed over and covered his mouth when she heard rattling at her front door.

“Shh. She’s here.”

He pulled her hand off of his face and grabbed her around the waist, throwing her onto the bed next to him and kissed her silly.

“HEY!” Raven called from the door. “The chain is on! Open the door Griffin. I said you’re not allowed to mope. I’m here to rescue you from yourself!”

Clarke pulled back from Bellamy, she could barely focus from that kiss. 

“Your cheeks are bright red,” Bellamy said, “And your eyes are glassy,” he grinned at her. “Use that to your advantage in convincing her you’re sick.”

Clarke nodded, her eyes fluttering. “You stay here and be quiet. I’ll chase her out.”

He said nothing, just stretched out on Clarke’s bed, his hands behind his head, looking at her with his smoldering gaze and flexing his shirtless muscles. “Hurry back,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be waiting.”

Clarke swallowed and raked a hand to settle her hair, and then went into battle.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Clarke slipped into her bedroom. Bellamy was leaning back up against her head board, reading a manuscript and eating cheese and crackers, still shirtless.

“Crackers in my bed?” she whispered.

He shot her an unimpressed look. “Got rid of the invader yet?”

She flopped down next to him. “No. Being sick doesn’t work. She’s making me chicken soup and a hot toddy. Apparently she’s got some jalapeño doctored version that will cure me.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I have to bring in the big guns.” She picked up her phone and then noticed what Bellamy had been reading. “You’re reading my research…”

“I love it,” he said. “The First Nation women fighting against the pipeline… you were listening to me.”

Clarke looked at him with her finger hovering over a button on her phone. “Do you think I don’t recognize your brilliance, Bellamy? Do you actually think I just like you because you’re hot?” She hit the button and put the phone to her ear, shaking her head at him.

“Hey, Clarke!” she heard through the phone.

“Listen Wells,” Clarke said, putting one hand on Bellamy’s chest, just because he was shirtless in her bed, and god. He was shirtless in her bed. “You know that favor you owe me? I’m calling it in.”

She heard Wells groan. “I just got back into town, do we really have to do this now?”

“We certainly do. Listen. I’m feeling under the weather and I just want to go to bed,” she shot a steamy look at Bellamy, “but I have this friend who thinks she’s taking care of me, and she’s driving me nuts. Can you please come over and take her out to a movie or for a drink or something? Just get her out of here so I can…” she ran her hand down his abs to his waist band, “take it easy.”

Wells sighed and Clarke knew she had won. “Fine, who am I taking out?”

Clarke grinned. “Raven.”

There was silence for a minute and Clarke winked at Bellamy. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Wells said and the line went dead.

“That was easy,” Bellamy said to her quietly.

“Wells and Raven have had this flirtation thing going on forever but when he went out to California for school, it kind of… well… they’ve been distant. Now he’s back in town and I’m thinking…”

“You’re thinking you want to set her up. Is this in revenge for what she did with us?”

“Please, if were revenge, I would have called Murphy.”

“Murphy’s terrified of her, but he kind of likes her.”

“That would be hilarious. Maybe I should cancel with Wells and call Murphy.” Her hand was slowly stroking Bellamy’s lower abs.

Bellamy’s lips fell open. “You’re not the kind of woman a person wants for an enemy, princess.”

“Did you pass out in there, Griffin?” Raven yelled from the other room. “Don’t make me come in there, my movie’s started.”

Clarke grabbed a comforter from her bed and wrapped it around her head. “I guess I need to play up my sickness.” She headed to the door, turning back momentarily. “Fifteen minutes, okay? Wells is always on time, and when Raven is involved?” she let out a breath, “just a little longer until we can be alone.”

He grinned. “I’m actually enjoying myself with your paper and brie and my wine.” He’d picked up her paper again and propped it on his knee, reaching out for the glass that he’d confiscated from her. His hair was black and ruffled and his skin gleamed in the lamp.

For a second, her heart stuttered. She wanted this. Him. Like this. 

“Your soup is ready, Grffin!”

Clarke sighed and slipped out of the room.

***

When they were finally gone, and Clarke had closed and triple locked her door against interruption, she stood there, with her heart racing. Finally, they were alone.

The nerves had come back. Her first instinct was to go for the wine, but maybe it was time to stop with the crutches. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders heading to her bedroom, where she found Bellamy deeply engrossed in reading Clarke’s paper. She looked at him from the doorway, but he didn’t acknowledge her.

She had to smile. She took off her sweatshirt and stood in just her bra, but he kept reading. So she walked over to the bed and lay down next to him. 

He held up a finger, still reading. “One minute,” he said.

Clarke bit her lip, and turned to face him, supporting her head with her hand as she watched him read. He dropped his hand to rest on her hip, but didn’t look at her. 

He’d never been more beautiful to her. Cynically she would imagine it was because of his sculpted naked chest, but really, it was his quiet thoughtfulness, his support, his honest curiosity and interest in what she had to say. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she looked like, but here she was, half naked in bed next to him, and he was more interested in reading what she wrote. Maybe most women would be insulted, but she was falling deeper and deeper. 

He flipped the paper closed and tossed it onto the table, then finally turned to her. “I loved that,” he said.

“I wanted to do some more research on the history of their people, really get into where they come from, how they’ve struggled and succeeded, bring the past into the future, kind of…” she was talking, but the hand Bellamy had on her hip was now sliding up to the bare skin at her waist, his thumb stroking against her rib cage. She breathed in, her words faltering, “maybe do a… show on…” he smiled, his eyes dark and hooded. His hand slid up higher and cupped her breast, and this time, his thumb stroked her nipple, back and forth until it peaked under the lace. “…For the new season,” she gasped.

He smirked at her. “You talk too much, princess,” and then he swooped down on her with his mouth, kissing her heatedly. He pressed her into the mattress with his hips, making her moan into his mouth and wrap her legs around his. Maybe he wasn’t more interested in her mind than in her body. At least, hopefully not for the next half hour or so.

He pulled away from her and she grabbed at him in dismay. “Where are you going?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked, then reached for the button of her jeans, snapping it open.

“Oh,” she said, as he kissed the pale, soft skin of her belly that he revealed. He unzipped her jeans slowly kissing each inch of flesh that was revealed. She lifted her hips so he could peel the jeans down and off, tossing them away, before kissing her inner thigh. He smiled as he met her eyes, and hooked his thumbs around the sides of her panties, sliding them down, slowly.

For a while, she had no words, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I have to deal with the smut factor. I have the feeling that this chapter should have really hot smut, and I feel like I *could* write it... however, there is something about writing smut that makes me feel uncomfortable, like it is not really my voice, like I would be putting on a costume rather than being my authentic self. I have no problem with smut in other fics, I just can't do it in mine, despite feeling like I am leaving my readers hanging. I have been working on this chapter for three days, struggling with how far to go and how descriptive to get. I feel like I ended it abruptly with a fade to black just because I couldn't keep wrestling with it and I do like the chapter so I wanted to post it.
> 
> I want to ride the line between sexy romance and smut, but I'm not sure how to find that line. Any advice on keeping the sexy time "mature" rather than "explicit" but still keeping it satisfying?


	10. The Intern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of Clarke's year of being a visiting professor at NYU, so as far as her friends are aware, she should be ready to make their Bellarke dreams canon, in real life... but instead, The History Channel has asked her to hire Bellamy as "The Intern," on their show, much to the dismay of her friends who are sure she won't allow herself to get involved with her employee. 
> 
> Ah, Bellarkers... always hoping, always having their hopes delayed. Again. 
> 
> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miraculoushipping said:  
> Hi! I really hope this doesn't come off as rude since I know that a lot of authors don't really like being badgered for updates, which is completely understandable, writing is HARD. But do you have plans to update/complete Academic? It's sosososo good and I love it, I couldn't stop grinning (Nubile little nymph, made my night 

They were at the bar, near the end of the school year. “So that sucks, right?”

Clarke gawked at the ridiculous number of hits for the new youtube vid of Bellamy at the Boys Club in his old neighborhood where he had raised Octavia. The theme was “Everyday Heroes,” and apparently, the whole internet was in love with the Bellamy Blake.

Clarke couldn’t blame them. She was in love with him too.

“How could this possibly suck? He’s a sensation. That has to be good for him. He’s my friend. Why would I want him not to have success?” She was still staring at him on screen, even though the volume was turned down low and she couldn’t hear the stories he was telling about the disadvantaged kids of the inner-city, their struggling parents and the people who were advocating for them. She swallowed and looked at Jasper, who looked back at her in exasperation.

“Duh, Clarke, because The History Chanel wants him to work on our show as ‘The Intern.’ You’ll be his employer! You’ll never be able to get together, now.”

Clarke looked at him, her face carefully neutral. “Have you been reading fan fiction again, Jasper?” she asked. 

“I’ll have you know that Bellarke is not the only ship your man is in now. There’s Caesamy. They’ve paired him up with Caesar, isn’t that awesome? And Zeusamy. Quite the fireworks in that one. A bit of Aphrodellamy… but Aphrodite always sounds vaguely like you anyway. My favorite is a little out of the history geek wheelhouse. Riplamy.”

Clarke couldn’t take it anymore and rolled her eyes. “Riplamy? Which greek god is that?”

“No greek god. Ripley. From Aliens!” Clarke stared at him. His eyes were wide and excited and she took a bite of pizza while he gushed about Bellamy fighting aliens in space. It turns out that it wasn’t that hard to distract Jasper from things she didn’t want to talk about.

Clarke called for a round of shots and made sure that when they came, Raven and Wells were sitting as close as they could in the booth, penned in on both sides by the enthusiastic Jasper on one side and a VERY friendly Monty and Miller on the other, who had apparently come to some agreements about what they were to each other, if the cuddling and smiles and the way they kept crowding into Raven’s space, pushing her closer to Wells had anything to say about it.

Clarke tossed back her shot and smiled at the way Raven blushed under Wells gaze. Honestly blushed. Raven couldn’t even look at Wells as he stared down at her and asked her if she was okay. 

Raven was not okay. Wells put a hand to her forehead and Raven blinked up at him. Her lips parting ever so slightly. It was awesome.

Her phone in her back pocket buzzed. 

“As much as I’d love to stay and watch all— “she waved her hands at the general friendness of her friend group, getting closer in ways that made her happy, not the least because she liked their matchmaking hearts being stung by cupid’s arrow. “I really need to get out of here. I have a business call from China coming in a bit. And I need all my notes. You guys keep on doing what you’re doing.” Her friends barely noticed her. Miller was entranced by Monty. The mighty Raven was laid low by Wells’ attention and Jasper was staring sadly at his phone. HE was next on the list. She’d find someone for him, to get him out of his Bellarke obsession. It wasn’t healthy. He needed to focus on his own life, not hers.

Clarke shrugged her bag over her shoulder only to be confronted by the sharp green eyes of Octavia. “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it tonight.” 

“Who?” she said. As if she didn’t know. 

Octavia pursed her lips. “My brother,” she snapped. 

Clarke let out a soft laugh. “Oh Octavia,” she said, fondly. “I told you. You don’t have to feel bad about me and Bellamy. We’re friends.” They were. It was true. Friends. He was one of her best friends. Best.

Octavia scowled at her. “There was something between you.” 

“Hmm,” she said noncommittally. It was true. 

“There IS something between you.”

Clarke smiled and nodded without saying anything at all. It was true.

“Stop acting like it doesn’t bother you that you couldn’t get together!” Octavia said. It was almost yelling, but her voice was quiet. Hissed almost. 

“Babe,” Lincoln said behind her, taking a hold of her arm as if he were trying to hold her back.

Octavia shot a frustrated look back at Lincoln. “Why did you let The History Channel hire him as your stupid intern. He’s more important than that.”

He was. “Things worked out for the best, Octavia. They really did. This could really open doors for him. I’m excited for him. You should be, too.”

Octavia’s scowl turned even fiercer. “I am. I just wish….”

“Babe,” Lincoln said and wrapped a soothing arm around her. “Let it go.”

“But they could have been so good together,” she grumbled to her boyfriend.

Clarke had pity for Octavia. She leaned down to the table and gestured towards Raven and Wells. “See that? Wells has been in love with her for ages. But Raven? She doesn’t believe in love.” She thought back to all the anguish that Raven had suffered over the years, all the broken hearts and pain. “She thinks love is for suckers.”

Octavia slanted her eyes over at them, the way Wells kind of loomed over Raven and the way Raven kept looking away, but still oriented towards him, as if her body couldn’t help it.

“But she tried to get you and Bellamy to fall in love.”

Clarke shook her head wryly. “No. She tried to get us to hook up. She thought if we had sex, I’d get him out of my system and be able to move on.”

Octavia shot her piercing glance back at Clarke. “But you didn’t do that, right?”

“If I hooked up with your brother,” Clarke said and her heart started racing, “do you think I’d just be able to move on and forget him?”

Octavia raised her chin like a challenge. “No, I don’t.”

“Good,” Clarke said and stood up. “So work on that over there.” Wells had a crooked grin on and Raven was on some rant with multiple curse words and much disdain for whoever she was ranting about, but there was a high flush on her cheeks. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Octavia said and turned her attention down the table while Clarke made her goodbyes and left the bar.

****

She turned the key in her apartment. It was quiet. Clarke closed the door behind her, locking it. Latching it too. Cautious.

She slipped off her shoes and hung her bag over the back of the chair, stepping quietly, not wanting to break the silence, in case….

“Bellamy?” she called.

“In here.” 

She smiled. He had his serious voice. All the different versions of Bellamy still thrilled her. The academic one. The sexy one. The contentious one. The protective one. 

She dropped her sweater as she walked back to her bedroom and stood in the doorway.

He was in her bed, shirtless, reading a huge tome. It was his favorite way to be, she’d found out. And she loved it. She loved him.

She laid down next to him. He raised his arm so that she could cuddle up against his side and that’s what she did, kissing the skin of his shoulder and laying her head on his chest, just happy to be there.

“They were talking about you at the bar,” she said.

“Hmm, yeah?” he said distracted by his book. His hand petted up and down her arm. “What were they saying?”

“Oh, that it was a pity The History Channel had hired you as “The Intern” on my show, and that meant I was your boss and couldn’t hook up with you. They were sad.”

He sighed, amused and turned the page. “And you couldn’t tell them that they hired me as your love interest because they loved the internet nonsense and wanted to jump onto the whole Bellarke frenzy just like our friends?”

“They didn’t,” Clarke purred, stroking his flat belly, playing with the little hairs above his waist band. “They hired you because of your passion for history and your screen presence. They liked the idea of a regular guy coming in to challenge me.”

“If that was what it was about, you never would have agreed to it.” He smiled as he read, but she got the feeling he wasn’t paying much attention to his book anymore. “You never needed a man to make your show good.”

“True.” His abs were so nice. “But I do so like having you around.”

“Uh huh,” he said doubtfully, still pretending to read his book.

“I do. You keep me on my toes, Bellamy. You make sure I’ve got the whole picture and I don’t get too laser focused on my own opinion. You make me better.”

He put his book down. “You’ve got it backwards, Clarke. I’m always trying to keep up with you. To think bigger. To question my beliefs. You make me better.”

She smiled. “Together we make a good show. Plus with added sexual tension.” She let her fingertips slip just barely underneath his waistband.

“So you’re going to enjoy working with your impressionable, young and nubile intern.” he pulled her towards him and kissed her temple, nuzzling the skin there with his nose. “You’re such a predator.” The motion of his hand became slower on her back, stroking down her spine to the curve of her ass, before sliding back up again, under her shirt and around to fondle her breast.

“Yeah, you’re a real innocent.” She just breathed, feeling the sensations while he nibbled at her ear and slipped his fingers inside of her bra. The muscles of his chest under her hands were warm and firm and she reached for the snap of his jeans. He lifted his hips just slightly to meet her hands, but she stopped. “Are you okay, though? With this game we’re playing? Pretending not to be together, working on the show. Teasing not just our friends but the whole world? You— you’re such a good guy, Bellamy, you can’t like lying.”

He laughed and the low vibrations went through her. “Oh baby,” he said and pulled her shirt over her head. “I’m not that good a guy. They set the rules. They fucked with us first. So we get to fuck with them.” He reached behind her and released the clasp on her bra, slipping the straps down and throwing the scrap of lace over there, somewhere. He bent down to kiss the soft skin at the top curve of her breast and she surged up to meet his lips, but he simply petted down her side and smiled at her. 

“Hey, they’re paying me a shit load of money to argue with you about history and justice and also to travel to amazing places that I’d never go otherwise. We’re filming around my academic calendar. Miller has the bar. This is going to be really great for my career… I HAVE a career and I’ve only been in college for one year. I think you’re really failing to understand just how much of a win this all is for me. And the best thing of all, I get you out of it. And I get to flirt with you and make that angry glint come into your eye when I challenge you… do you know how MUCH I loved that when you were just my professor? That little glint. I knew how much fire you had inside you.” He laughed under his breath and his hand drifted down to undo her jeans and slip inside.

She gasped. 

“Yeah that’s the fire.” His grin was crooked and beloved. “That we get to screw with our friends and mess up their betting and also make them wonder about us for the whole filming? That’s just bonus, huh?”

But Clarke really couldn’t follow the conversation anymore. Not with the electricity Bellamy was striking inside of her. “Stop talking,” she breathed. “Do you really want to keep talking about our friends right now?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, and his mouth came down on her nipple while his hands brought her higher. She peaked under him and laughed, pulling him close to her and kissing down his chest.

“Is that how I get you shut up?” she asked, so happy in that moment that it felt like the universe was revolving around them. 

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said and kissed her.


End file.
